Magnum Opus of Valour Revisited
by Tigerdust
Summary: EDIT: Angel and Xander set in a future without any hint of Twilight. The cost of their own heroics is explored. Slash with an Oz, Riley, Willow subplot and a surprise villain.
1. Chapter 1

The moon rose behind Xander as he paced through the shadows, watching for danger and being a menace to those who caused it in the supernatural community. Buffy had finally retired and the drama had subsided with her, but not the evil. Things were back to basics with Xander now "in charge" in some sort of bizarre graphic novel way.

Xander had broken off from the pack that seemed so desperate to be normal, those still so devoted to Buffy and her quest for that wiggly subjective truth that she loved so much. Riley, as a mercenary from the army, had come into contact with him at some point and things had just kind of snowballed from there, including his own cool weapon-some spooky Thor hammer that the Nords were loaning him.

Xander and Riley were tied together by more than a sense of justice. They were tied together by a love of Willow, and of Oz for the former Black Ops Army man. But Willow and Oz both had both stood by him as well in their own ways. Willow refused to touch magick after being burned by the cosmos and Oz was never sure when he would wolf out, so they ran AmCroft Row, the center for their operations. Willow was the figurehead for their day care and community center while Oz held down the communication and technical aspects of their "save the world" organization.

Riley's comm link buzzed and he nodded as he tapped his ear to listen. Riley chuckled low afterwards as Xander raised an eyebrow. "Oz wants us to pick up some milk."

Xander mused that Riley, himself, and the third man patrolling with them must have looked like an odd trio. There stood he at just about six feet tall, chest out not in a proud but confident manner with his leather jacket and plain white tee. His raven hair was quaffed just below his ears, without gel- thank you very much, and complimented by his black jeans and construction boots-very nice for quashing the stench of a sewer rat. His Nordic hammer was concealed in a satchel slung across his back.

Riley stood taller but softer. His brown hair complimented by a barrel chest and a green army jacket and khakis. The only new thing added to his old sense of style was the comm link and microphone jammed near his cheek and bombs concealed in little compartments at his belt. Okay, maybe it was a bit too Batman, but it was efficient for localized spell casting when necessary and supervised.

Then there was Keller. He was older than the rest of the Scooby Gang by about ten years or more. There was something dangerous in his dark eyes; like he could play with the demons and then annihilate them, making him a presence to be reckoned with. His black hair remained short and cropped at all times. His outfit was nearly like Xander's except his was torn jeans and a rider's jacket, like a motorcycle he claimed to own but never produced. His weapons were cold steel and guns.

So the three of them sauntered with a mission through a swirling foggy night in a cemetery surrounded with the scent of boredom and waiting. The tombs were cold, like the hearts of many who resided there. Men were nothing like the tombstones, the trio knew. Fearful, selfish, plagued by demons of society, greed, and lust. The people of Amcroft Row had conquered so many with those glowing words on their stone. But Buffy had a least understood this. Xander would always remember that psych grad student that she had confessed to him about in a moment of weakness.

But you had to shrug that kind of thing off. It was the business and it wasn't very friendly. You got over it or it ate your alive. Either way, the night tends to drag on when you're not on the Hellmouth. Xander dropped his gear off at the end of the patrol, the hammer didn't need to be everywhere and would come when called. He had a few hours to kill until bedtime and so he'd return to Amcroft later in the morning, being as how he had become an insomniac. He still enjoyed walking the streets alone, and he had no fear for his name had become almost as whispered as Buffy's had, at least in this little portal of despair.

Xander called the town Amityville, but truth be told he was in Salem, Massachusetts. He had run away farther, unlike Angel who might as well have left everyone heartbroken but simply moved down the street. No, Xander had left and left for good.

He decided that his newfound love of jazz would come in handy tonight and headed to a converted factory, something reminiscent of the Bronze before Sunnydale had become a sink hole. It was warm inside with paint in a swirl of calm ambers, reds, and yellows.

The real Xander came here. No fake Xander warrior, but a broken man that was soothed by jazz. That night, they had set Maya Angelou to saxophone and piano. It dripped and haunted Xander in his mind until he reached the copper bar. Words about soul-searching and pain. About forgiveness and sacrifice. Wrong ethnicity, but completely astute about him. It really didn't matter, everyone bled the same color, unless you were a Macrort. They bled yellow.

It was unexpectedly calm as the poetry readings started. What else was a night owl to do in Salem? Angst-ridden teens and disappointed churchgoers sang mournful hymns of faith and love all while Xander sipped his thoughtful brandy. There was something frightfully dignifying about the scene, something more adult and unsettling. If Xander had been a spiritual man, then this could have been his church. He had once been told that everyone worships something, and he could see how that was probably true.

Xander turned back to the bar, huddling into his drink, as a pimply-faced emo teenager walked up to the stage. He assumed it was going to be a rail and he didn't want much of a part of it. What was there to be really angry about? This kid's life was probably better than he understood. Xander often chuckled to himself about teaching the regular kids what real suffering was and inviting them on one patrol. This one would last about as long as Jonathan, most likely.

The kid's heart sang with poetry. "Through fiercest night I tread, the world silent before me."

That's when Xander stiffened. He could feel the presence cutting through his relaxing night. His own personal hauntings slicing through any peace of mind. The emo child spoke of Angel. That was unfair. What did he know of Angel? Xander begged silently with the child not to ruin his seldom chance for peace; to forget.

But he continued regardless. "I saw him, a dark warrior as tall as the amber tree and as pale as the moonlight."

"Startled by his unbridled passion, I flung myself into a cocoon of protection."

Xander could not allow himself to cry. He would not break down because of this child's poem.

"A mysterious fog lifted him from my sight; how am I to become a white knight without him?"

And all of a sudden, the trauma of the poem, like Angel, was a memory. A brief transcendent connection, not because of the child but because of the unpredictable state of Xander. He wanted to be angry. He wanted the sedate reds and yellows to take on forms of violent passion. He wanted to be eternally vengeful and pissed off. To throw chairs and glasses of toxic alcohol at walls. To create the eternal chaos he hid behind to not deal with the memories of Angel.

And then he saw him for that one second. Angel came forward, a ghostly hallucination. A head taller than Xander with hair turning slightly more brown than he remembered. Not playful but not serious, Angel's gaze as androgynous and bearing as Xander did indeed remember. His eyes both pleaded and played with Xander. Tears could not come. There was just shock. He began to smile in that dangerous way that could too easily toy with Xander's emotions. Then Angel's entire ghostly body strolled through him.

_Enough_. Enough said the coldness welling up in Xander. _Enough._


	2. Chapter 2

In some ways; I've always been dead.

That's how Angel started writing. But that didn't feel satisfactory. He furrowed his brow and erased the sentence with a flourish of his writing utensil. Quills and even fountain pens were just too hard to come by these days, though he would have preferred one or the other for an assignment such as this. Angel sat in his comfy black leather chair on the first floor of the Hyperion, suddenly finding the color on the back of his hand very interesting. Over the few years he had been in LA, his skin had begun to take on a tone of the city.

Not exactly pale anymore, or even more human, but grittier. And, he might add, with a hint of warmth. Sure, he might not be able to walk into the sweltering LA daylight, thank God for small miracles, but in the shadows of night he could fit right in en masse. Angel smiled a little and sharpened one of the sides of the pencil with his left fang.

The irony of it all was that this entire process, right from the moment Darla had changed him, had started because he hadn't wanted to fit in. He had left home to see the world; to experience life. But Angel tried to not think of Darla much anyways. Or any of the old family, really. Even if Spike kept pushing his way back in.

Decades had changed, but for all Angel knew, Spike hadn't and may have never had the capacity. He had just become...someone new. His interior was full of something opposite of the Billy Idol image he sported. Angel's mind recognized that it was starting to drift. Why was he thinking about William?

He looked down at the paper. Oh yes, the memoir. It had been Cordy's idea. Write it all down. Take a look at everything; all the tough stuff. Maybe the broodiness will let up a little. Angel shook his head a bit more and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't dare think of Cordy without thinking about how far she had come. As a seer, she had matured into someone Angel wished Buffy could have been. Cordy hadn't whined incessantly like Buffy had. She had accepted it all somewhere down the road and had matured like all the other humans turned fighters had. Like Willow and Oz. And Xander.

Angel stopped at the sound of his name in the back of his throat and ran his cold hands over his forearms. Angel preferred to call him Alex, but the boy had preferred Xander. Had preferred it in the howls of ...oh, but Angel couldn't even bear to think of what he'd done to Xander. Not poor, innocent Xander, but that smart, rebellious Xander he had captured. The Xander that was part soldier, part hyena, and all ready to be suited up for war.

Or love, which could be a lot like war in Angel's opinion. Another sigh escaped his lips and Angel stood to look up at the moon behind him in the window. The week had been quiet, too quiet. Of course, most weeks were when not near the Hell mouth. Angel had almost succeeded in allowing himself to fade off into oblivion. Of course, he could think of one lad who hadn't let him fade off without a fight. How he had begged to be turned, even though he hated the thought of it but still couldn't admit it, just to be with Angel.

There were times when he wondered what Xander had seen in him. Angel felt like he had become an Atlas type over time. High off the ground; never involved or intact to anyone except the ceiling of the Earth which he held. Xander had surprised Angel; going from enemy to friend. Of course, Angel didn't blame him for being weary at first, but there was a sensual part to that boy that was thirsty for a fight. Thirsty to learn the sword and the ancient texts. Thirsty to be an authentic hero with delicious flaws and vivacious sidekicks. He was wise to stick to the increasingly-powerful Willow. Wise to be the reason she didn't destroy everything. Angel wished he had been that wise, silently to himself. He smelled someone coming near.

Spike was already donning his best Cordy impression. "Brooding is not good for the posture, Angel."

Angel straightened up his face, his heart, his shoulders and turned to face Spike, fresh from the training room. Shirtless blond man in the general vicinity; Angel just rolled his eyes. He thought that Spike should wear an "am too horny to be dead" shirt and get it over with.

But Angel was in no mood and had said so many times to his childe's childe before. It wasn't a headache or an excuse; it just wasn't right. He wasn't young by any standard anymore and that first year between them had been too wild. Too unrestrained. William simply couldn't expect that from Angel anymore. And he wasn't even willing to role play Angelus; the little bugger that growled from his inside out. He leaned against the frame and turned his head to face Spike.

"Done playing with the dummies?"

Spike nodded in return. "Yeah, just a bit of a break. Wouldn't need to let off so much steam in there if someone would let me out once in a blue moon."

Angel shook his head. They had this argument more often than he cared to recount. "Now, now Spikey, you know I can't let you do that. I wouldn't want the streets of LA to be less dangerous, letting you at them. You and I both know human blood on our hands is no good."

Spike sneered at Angel as he swaggered over to a moonlit window and brushed his fingers along the sill. "No. Here is where we belong, isn't it?"

Angel remained calm. Spike was merely having another temper tantrum, once again refusing to know the difference between being mocked and honored. "We are relics. Make no mistake."

"We're not relics, Angel! We're celebrated as gods! They dance to us in the streets."

Angel wondered briefly how long Spike had been trying to phrase that argument. Spike just hated that Angel was always so introspective and calm these days. Of course, what Angel didn't know about the revolving doors in this place didn't hurt either. For all Angel knew, Will didn't go anywhere.

That, or his grandsire pretended not to care. Like he hadn't pretended to care about Penn. But he had cared. Spike often thought of Angel as an angel with those protective wings outspread, though he would never admit it to anyone. The biggest challenge Spike witnessed was when Angel tried pulling back those wings of safety and just let people be. Spike tested the dangerous waters inside Angel's intellect.

"Been thinking about him again, haven't you?"

Angel didn't have the energy to deal with lying. "It's all Cordy's fault. She's the one who recommended I write the memoir."

"You can't blame this on Cordy, mate. You miss the blighter, and I can't blame you. But, come on, let's get your mind off of him."

Will linked his forearm with Angel's in the blink of an eye. Angel sighed, he supposed he could put off the memoir for another night.

Spike suddenly leapt into one of his mood changes. "Tag, you're it!"

Angel's interest wasn't quite piqued, but anything was better than thinking about Xander. They flew around the floors of the hotel like vampiric pinballs, blurs to the normal human eye. The bounced around paintings and wilting flowers that would never nor could ever bloom again because of the incident involving a demon of hatred that had set up shop here so long. But Angel wouldn't think about any of that tonight. He thought solely about chasing Will.

Or he did until he heard a slight crash from the main hall. The faded red carpets greeted the Angories demons. A pair of, well the human equivalent of standing pigs as far as Spike could wager, gruesome slimy monsters with dead eyes. And no rhyme or reason as to why they were here.

"Oh c'mon! We just had the carpets redone!" It was Spike's turn to cock his slightly shaved brow and found a grimacing Angel at the top of the first story landing. "I thought we had a enacting spell protecting those doors."

Will pointed to the bulk of drywall splintered all over, right next to the solidly closed doors. "Somehow, I don't think they understand the concept of doors, Angel love."

It was quick battle. A bit of flash, a bit of wit, and even a bit of poking round just as though this was an extra obstacle in tag. Killing an Angories demon means, however, that you have to get the carpets redone again. Angel was bored with fighting all these inane trooper demons.

No challenge; no thrills were really left. And, at this point, he didn't quite care who had sent them and what yada yada dangerous, world ending plot their boss had involving prophecies and whatnot. It was all rehashed and overdone. Angel just wanted to finish it, and to have it done quickly. The demons looked like a pair of Hawaiian piggies ready for roast.

Spike stood back and admired their handiwork. "Mate, that fight isn't as gone as you'd like us all to think, is it?"

"Nope, just buried."

Spike furrowed his brow, pointing to the pig on the left. "Does something look wrong with one of them?" There was a thick purple acid shooting all over the floor at this point.

Angel grimaced as he backed up, placing an arm across his visage to protect any acidic goo that shot toward his face. "Well, at least we have a plan for tomorrow. We're getting the carpets cleaned."

"We are sending Cordy to deal with that, right?"

They yammered and bantered on for a few more minutes until they figured out it didn't really matter and they'd just leave a note for Cordy in the morning. The curious side effect of the acidic blood had given the camera in the eye of the left demon time to self-destruct. And somewhere, someone scoffed. Because Angel thought he was better. But that was all just a matter of perspective. Spike and Angel's game of vampiric tag resumed briefly.

The incident happened as they zoomed around the second corner of the third numerous hallway on the fourteenth floor of the building. Angel had climbed the ropes of the elevator, as an excuse to lose his shirt and be all sweaty, ripped, and out show Spike. Angel heard his name whispered from somewhere low, an echo of an echo as he exited into another hallway.

Not Angel, but Angelus. Whispers in a time gone by. And the dead plants began to overgrow. Jungles of thick ferns in a misgiving cool steam of the French forests. The pictures began to step out of time all around him as Angel sped around, trying to outrun whatever it was. A fluttering silver coat came by and Angel began to run faster than was wise, out of a rising panic that thundered through every absent blood cell in his body.

Angel couldn't seem to find his own balance, instead finding himself bounding into the sides of walls and leaving indentations that threw grime all across his shoulders, broken lamps strewn in his path. Spike found him in a fetal position with dinner running down his ears and dust from the walls caked against his grimacing vampiric features. As William cradled him, horrified, Angel could only mutter one word.

"Anorous."


	3. Chapter 3

Oz was the cool one; the role he was born to play. He had been fine with that; had been mellow all of his born days. His dad had been the "fire and brimstone" preacher so it had been fine with him to run away and live out his mellowness elsewhere. He had made good friends, and surprise, some of them had stuck around. Now, his mellowness he attributed to the wolf spirit inside of him. Not dormant, but just kind of napping around his heart. It was like having a warm puppy in front of a fireplace in a log cabin, or something like that. _Ooh_, Oz thought, _maybe I should write that down. Could be the start of something good_.

Oz rubbed his eyes, as he was tired of staring at the same computer and being tech support. Oz turned to his tiny kitchenette in the surveillance lounge and sniffed at some curious tuna goop Riley had made. He cocked his brow at the thought of Midwestern tough soldier in some frilly pink apron mixing tuna and mayo and giggled. Not about the tuna thought. No, his soldier had no frilly anything. He was s straight-line, streamlined, all business, and all pleasure. That was Oz's man or rather, half of Oz's man. He wouldn't have really claimed ownership anyways. Oz, Riley, and Wills they all belonged to each other.

Or rather, Wills entertained them. She belonged to no one. They were there until she met another Tara, Xander, or heck another naive and sensitively quite Oz she could dominate. Oz shrugged at the thought and scratched a spot in his back. He felt the bristles coming out his ears and thought that it must be that time of the month. Looking at his fingernails change, he though _yep, black claws_. The only side effect he couldn't erase from wolfdom.

Made his pride and joy Fender harder to play, but at least there were none of those "urges" anymore. No, that desert monk and madcap hermit had fixed most of it. Herbal medicines made of camphor and rambling weeds mixed with some cactus potion. He could see it now at Trader Joes. Wolfs bane for sale!

Riley walked into the surveillance room after some time in the training room of Amcroft Row. His chest was heaving and his eyebrow was quirked, having caught Oz chuckling at nothing in particular. "I got some milk just like you asked."

"Actually, Willow wanted the milk for the day care."

Oz didn't want his concentration broken from his Riley by thinking of Willow. And this was the moment where they drank each other in, alone; in duet and concert. Like that sweet rift from, oh, Oz had forgotten. He forgot things looking into the smooth, tired eyes of Riley. What Xander had never figured out was that there were not three, but really only two hearts and Willow. Wills had loved Tara and Xander in separate places and times. Maybe she had even loved Oz.

"I'm a bit thirsty," Riley whispered. He opened the spout and began to drink. A couple of drops landed on his shirt. He put the milk in the mini-fridge and Oz moved forward and began to bat the drops away with his lips.

"How was hunting tonight?"

"Nothing like this," Riley whispered as he nuzzled the crane of the wolf's neck. This was the time of the month where the skin was soft and sexy like a velvety satin that could send Oz into orbit. A low groan issued from Oz; Riley took that as a sign and captured Oz's lips with his own. It was a spicy kiss. The two hearts leapt and beat; playing throughout both chests. They stood there, not moving, afraid time would play a nasty trick on them both.

And so they stood enraptured and loosely within each other's comfort zone. The only men in the world. Eventually, they found their ways back to Riley's room. Now make no mistake; they could have sex, of a certain sweaty variety. But that wasn't who either of them was anymore. Oz removed Riley's shirt and Riley did likewise to Oz. Buttons and zippers popped. There was no shame between the two as merciless shafts shown out of holes in boxers, caressing the other member. Long, torpedo like swords threatening to engulf them into one-night stands that would never have to be again. They enveloped each other under the covers. Riley lay down with his one patch of hair on his chest; Oz's hair. They snuggled into one piece.

Two men in one simple world in an even simpler time; neither needing anything other than to be there. Neither heard the beeper go off. Neither heard Willow come in. And only Oz's eyes peeped open only to see a bruised Willow's tear-stained eyes. It would be harder still to rouse in the morning. Willow went back to a room with pale swaths of velvet black and pink and she mourned for her men. She felt for the only shaft she could trust; her needle. The warmth of the burning heroin inside her; that was her blanket and security. The place where she was still magical; still close to being God. Still Willow, which demanded obedience and respect, and not just Wills.

Chris played the voyeur from the privacy of his dungeon. Watched her breath heaving through the dark corset she wore to sleep with. Watched her dress in her sharp business suits when morning came. Watched as her hands floated through her perfectly short, fiery hair. Chris watched a real woman. Toby had gotten those startling looks few times; Toby who was the beautiful, the terrible, the passionate, and the betrayer. Chris had died on that cold linoleum floor and letting the words ring through his head every night made him scream like Oz had. Toby the beautiful blond had hated him.

Vile poison begat vile poison, isn't that what he'd been trying to say? Chris slid back the panel on the network that allowed him to watch his "friends". Of course, that was a loose term in his eyes. Friends too easily exploited, exposed, and destroyed you. No, these were temporary shields from whatever powers that be were trying to load onto Chris. Inside, he had died as Toby had pushed him. Maybe the outside wouldn't die too much, but, for now, though, he thought about kissing those bruises in Willow's arm. Tasting the fiery red inside that showed from the roots outward. He imagined making her arms shiver and making her bosom dance in that black leather corset. He imagined handcuffs and then had to shake himself off. The only way he knew how.

Oz awoke to the smell of Irish coffee. At least, that's what he hoped the smell was. Riley was watching him and holding two frothy, steamy beverages in his hand. Boxers peeked out over his regulation khakis and his belt was slung over the chair next to the bed and his beloved Fender, which had migrated here over the course of several days. Narrow slits of sunlight striped his smooth chest, his perfect, rippling abs.

Oz smiled. "For me?"

"Of course."

Riley slid onto the bed on his knees, still holding the coffee, and nuzzled Oz while they drank through whipped cream and what was apparently hot cocoa. Am croft Row would be silent again this morning. Silent was the way Oz enjoyed life; which was too bad for him, especially this morning.

Willow awoke to the taste of iron in her mouth. She spit in a bucket next to her bed; knowing the heroin had done it again. But why should she care? There wasn't much left to not get high for. She had seen last night something she thought only she and Tara had shared. She sighed as she exited her room, wearing a flowing silk robe and a ring that reminded her of Tara. Her two lovers had been up for a couple of hours and were sharing the bathroom brushing their teeth. There were sounds of playful camaraderie all around.

That all stopped when her reflection was cast upon the mirror. No eyes bothered to look at each other. They were guilty of many infractions of their code. As Willow tried to slide her arms around Riley's waist, she knew something was different. He didn't shake them off; however, there was coldness there. His abs didn't respond at all; didn't tense up like normal. She put her head on his left shoulder, and he didn't respond.

Oz didn't even greet her hello. Riley shook her off so he could spit. He ran his hands through his damp hair and left to go read the paper in the living room. As Oz entered, Riley began to question out loud.

"She hasn't said a word to us about last night. Does something seem wrong to you?"

"Something has always seemed off to me, Riley. I always feel like I've been in second place with her," Oz answered matter-of-factly. "Especially after I came back and she was with Tara. You get used to the feeling kind of hanging over everything; there was always this feeling of being in slight depression."

Riley winced a bit. "I didn't want to say anything."

Willow entered in a professional crimson suit with a black skirt; ready to begin the morning's work at the daycare. She ran things which meant not having to show up so early. "You drank all the rest of the milk I asked you to get? I needed that for the daycare."

She spit little rounds of venom at them both. Oz wanted to console her, but he couldn't have been sure how. He knew she was angry, wroth maybe was a better term, and he understood why. He got up, and she turned back towards the counter.

"It doesn't matter," she grimaced. That was how he knew it was over and her anger had passed back to the inside where it would be bottled and probably returns at the most inopportune moment. And as long as Riley was safe; that was all Oz really cared about.

"Then we aren't going to talk about what happened?" Riley didn't have the sense of when not to prod perfected yet.

Willow sighed heavily. "No, Riley, we will not talk about it. We're just going to move on and we'll deal with this later."

She was pissed at a standstill, but stormed off to work anyways. There would be no dealing with this; no words. Riley was nervous. He knew she could do things to him, to his Oz, who he cared about more than himself, the Oz that could feel Riley's energy getting nervous. Oz sat back down on the couch and patted Riley's knee. The fight was over; the battle had not been won by either side. But all that mattered to Oz right now was calming the worried Riley down.

Willow didn't go to work that day though. She went back to another building in Am croft Row and hid for a while; floating boxes all around her head into shapes and then ripping them apart. It wasn't solace, but it would do. Cardboard flew around her in shards when Chris found her.

"Want to talk about it?" His eyes, those light blue wizards, penetrated her heart.

"Talk about what? There's nothing wrong going on here, no sir. Just some stretching; just taking a day off."

"You're a horrible liar; have you noticed that?"

Willow just shrugged and answered him by pelting him with a fridge box. He could have moved out of the way, but the gesture was sweet.

"Come on, Willow. I want to show you my dungeon."

"That's quite an honor." She didn't actually feel honored, but she went anyways. They walked in the silent and sunny through ways of the buildings without danger. Chris smiled a bit and the corners of his eyes crinkled as they discussed the demons they had been researching.

All the broom pushing to get the place ready had helped Chris make an impression on Willow. His dungeon had a skylight that played upon mirrors and the bed, stage center of the octagon. The stone floor was uncovered, except at the foot of the bed and at a chest of drawers. The televisions were hidden behind panels of a blue version of Starry Night that Chris had painted when he was trying to forget Toby in different artsy hobbies. They were never really his thing, or even therapeutic, he tried to explain. Willow stood transfixed by them as Chris made noodles in his kitchen. The warm steam filled Willow's lungs with spiciness and they continued to discuss and parry about what was going on for another half hour, before Willow broke the ice about Toby.

Chris's eye changed when he talked about Toby. There was a hard light about them. They focused intently. So intently you might be fooled into thinking you had found Chris' very soul. Willow was fascinated. She would use him to regain control over her boys.

"Toby was lucky," she interjected, "devotion like yours must be hard to find."

Keller shrugged. "Well, I don't agree. I had my price. Making him fall in love with me was easy. Keeping me out of love with him was not."

"That's a shame. Love is one of those things..." Willow's thoughts trailed off. She hadn't seen this side of him before, and she couldn't think why, but she felt a need to kiss him as he watched her.

"No, it wouldn't be hard to kiss me if you wanted," Chris' responded to her thought and came up behind her. Chris was trapped in her kiss and then beneath her body later as she rocked over him and thrust his deep member within herself. She used him, he wanted to be used. He was revenge and malice and she needed that. She thought she needed it against the world.

Afterward, Willow lay gasping and naked on her side, watching Chris simply stare off into space. Her hair cascaded over her body and the bed. "That was good."

Chris nodded, turning his head. "Yeah, I had the suspicion that it would be."

Keller rose to clean up, padding toward his shower. He was satisfied but she wasn't Toby. He had to be careful getting hard in front of her thinking about him. But he needn't have worried about that; Willow was in her own world, thinking about how she would use him. It would be a real Spike and Buffy type of tragedy. And it would probably doom her beyond measure, but she didn't care. She was already doomed to the dark.


	4. Chapter 4

Spike was beyond freaked out. He was so freaked out that he didn't even correct Cordy when she called him Will. Bear in mind, Cordy was also freaked, but she had been able to overcome this through an innate faith that Angel always survived. Of course, Angel hadn't eaten in three days so that thought nibbled at her innate faith in him like a piranha.

When he wasn't huddled in the fetal position and rocking himself into a coma sleep, he had taken to wandering at night and not eating. Spike had become his substitute mother to even attempt to get him to feel. Not that Cordy wouldn't have if he had asked, but something about this entire situation made them both too uneasy and Spike didn't want to tip her over the edge.

Cordelia tried to speak with a hint of cheerful hope as she and Spike drank coffee and blood, respectively, in the tiny servants kitchen of the Hyperion lobby. "If Lorne were still alive, we could take Angel to see him. Maybe to try and get him to sing. I know normally he wouldn't, but in this state it seems slightly do-able."

"Angel doesn't sing," William replied adamantly, killing the idea then and there.

Cordy fished for a solution that would work. "I could try and ask the Powers whats going on?"

Spike shook his head no slowly several times. Spike had no desire to deal with the PTB at the moment; knowing there would be even more of a double-edged sword from the task. And right now, he wasn't willing to risk himself while Angel was so obviously out of commission. Angel and he needed each other.

Finally, Cordelia hit upon an idea that seemed valid. "Why don't we try the Freudian demon, Velar? Maybe he could try and coax the problem out of Angel; maybe it's like a vampiric mid-life crisis and he just broke down since he's already had the corvette."

Spike heard his Angel whimper again from his room and mutter that word; the only word he could seem to say, _Anorous_. The word sent a shiver of panic down Spike's side enough that he thought of letting one of the Freudian's in the hotel. At the very least, they were more neutral than hostile. "It's worth a shot. It maybe the only shot we have."

Velar was not hard to find. A friend of Anya's could really get anything in the demon world they needed. Velar came with his own bag of tricks and decidedly anti-demonic look. Cordy later described him as Mr. Peanut meets ZZ Top. Spike was so concerned about Angel that he forewent comment.

They heard his eerie limp as Velar arrived back down the hallway. Cordy had even trounced Spike on the shoulder twice to try and keep him from pacing during Velar's private consultation with the champion. Velar had one of those accents; one of those breathy, infuriating accents. So many times, Spike watched the man stroke his beard and wanted to growl heartily for him to continue on and fix his Angel. The doctor was boggled, in a slight way. Convinced as he was, he began in careful words.

"Have you ascertained the meaning of the word he speaks?"

Cordy spoke for both herself and Spike. "No doctor, we haven't been able to. I want to attribute it to a spell, a demon, something, but Angel's been cooped up in here so long there's not a soul reaver that's touched him. And they're the only thing I could think of that could hurt him like this, in such an inexplicable way."

The doctor sighed loudly and stroked his beard. "My honest opinion? There's very little anyone can do until we discover the source of the mysticism he chants."

Spike crossed his arms. "Is there any explanation you can offer?"

Cordy spoke in feverish words at the doctoring demon, who merely blinked at her. "The Angories demons were the only things he's fought in awhile, and I looked up all the information we have on them. There was nothing in the file on sorceries or any messenger spells they could carry."

Spike thought he might scream at the doctor if he stroked his beard one more time. Instead, the doctor stopped stroking his beard long enough to address him. "Have you looked into his eyes, young William the Bloody?"

The vampire was caught off-guard by the lax use of his name, but he shook it off. "I've been too busy worrying and feeding him. "

Velar shook his head. "Well, that's irresponsible of you. I can see his soul through his eyes. I believe the answer lies in them." With that, the man hobbled off.

Cordy shuddered, holding her shoulders. "Well that was unhelpful."

"I think it was more insightful than you're giving it hope for, love."

Cordelia simply shook her head. "I don't want to look into his eyes in this state, Spike!"

Spike grimaced and then went very stoic. "I'll do it then. I've known him longer and he needs to be fed anyways. I just hope there's something in there to find."

Spike gulped as he entered the room not far from the lobby. Angel looked comfy sprawled out and wearing a loose, black shirt. Spike nuzzled his temples.

"Please, sire, upon your eyes for your grandchilde."

Angel's eyes opened slowly as he tried to reach for Spike, but then they seemed to crawl away in a shiver as they tried to escape Spike's gaze. He whispered the devilish word once again in some sort of plea to Spike, which caused Spike's heart to crawl.

Spike wanted nothing more than to claw feverishly against the wall of whatever was keeping Angel in his current state. Spike straddled his thighs between Angel's middle to keep him from crawling away. Spike wasn't sure how much longer he was going to stand this without going insane. All the while, Cordy watched, holding the doorway to keep herself steady. Her short hair rested on the woodwork in a futile attempt to keep her from trying to feverishly awaken Angel.

"Look into my eyes," Spike whispered and Angel began to cry the tears he had eaten earlier. He was listless, pale, and shaking. There was a flash of brilliance and a howl from across the night sky somewhere as the innermost of Angel met the innermost of Spike. Spike searched longingly for the answer. Angel's eyes had turned a light green around the edges with a darker green center. They shook and darted while Spike's dark eyes searched. It was there somewhere amongst the panic and puke green sallow color. Angel screeched in this unnatural, primal tone and fell into a coma. There was a thunderous commotion as Spike called out for Cordelia.

Cordelia held Angel down as firmly as she could and cringed as Spike bit into his own wrist. The cooled blood began to settle quickly enough that Spike set it firmly against Angel's mouth and he began a prayer he never thought he'd say. To whatever power would listen. He wanted his Angel back. He wanted his life back; even if it meant staying in the Hyperion to the edge of eternity living with Angel's tense sniping and introspection. He didn't care any longer.

He huddled against Angel's shaking frame as he released that cursed word from his lips again and blood began to pool around Angel's chest, a small pool from whatever forced meal had come. The night passed this way in the darkened hotel. The moon began to weep in pale light for the three and for a fourth far away even farther into his own pain. Xander stared at the same moon on his latest patrol as ice had formed around his eyes in this barrier of pain and shallow hope, though he couldn't quite say why.

So they all waited; in this cycle of worry, pain, and doubt. All while a mocking figure looked forward, her hair in a terrible wave of triumph. Spike had seldom felt desperation for mysticism or for answers. But he felt desperation now, felt it in every vampiric vein and it showed. The stress created bloody bags under his darkened eyes. His game face was on constantly, but Cordelia ceased to call him on it. She had taken to not even combing 1,000 strokes into her hair every morning. William called the only person he knew who could help. He called Buffy.

She agreed to meet him in this little podunk town she lived in. It was all dusty and corn fed. This is how she's choosing to live, he thought to himself in grief. This was what she had wanted, the normal life. He grimaced as men in bad flannel exited a rundown coffee shop filled with fake fifties memorabilia. He always looked out of place, but here there was no corner to crouch in here. Spike was simply out of place.

Life moved in slow motion as she entered. She still had her fashionable swing to her hair, now waved without her little curl at the bottom. No bright, sunlit bangs. Her earrings were gone; her debonair light subdued. She walked and slid into the cushy booth; no concern stretched onto her face. "I thought I said I didn't want to be disturbed."

"Do you think I'd really disturb you unless it was important? Bloody hell, Buff, I know you well enough to know you meant it when you said you were retired. But you didn't think it would all go away, did you? I guarantee you I would not be doing this if it weren't important. You'll want to listen; it's about Angel."

Her face flickered in recognition as silent moments passed. The ancient apple pie and the coffee for Buffy arrived. "I don't think I want to know. "

"You have to listen Buffy; he's sick. It's not demons or a spell. We think it was something in his past, but we can't touch it. You have to help me." Spike was not used to pleading, but you'd bloody well believe he would do it now.

Buffy's voice was calm, not filled with hysteric speech or cryptic determination, like it always used to have been. It was flat now, annoyed more than anything. "Didn't I tell all of you I was done with all this after the Hellmouth? I have kids now, I run the PTA, and I bake pies. I can't go running off gallivanting all around the countryside because something is wrong with your grandsire."

Spike's snarling anger boiled over, remarkably without game face. "So, this is the life you want, then? Did you find someone willing to put up with your domineering?" Angel was running out of time, and Spike felt just plain sick to his stomach about her attitude.

Buffy merely crossed her arms, unimpressed by his emotion. "Hey, fangs don't bark at me because your best friend has a problem." The couple at the next table looked over, so she settled for smoldering anger in his general direction.

Spike growled low in his throat. "Look blondie, I wanted to ignore you, but time isn't quite as long as it used to be for Angel. He keeps sayin' this one word, over and over again. Anorous, please tell me if that means anything to you."

"No." Buffy stared without even taking a moment.

"Would you please even consider helping someone you loved once?"

Then Buffy's man walked in. He had that air of a prick that Spike hated before he even met the man. He hoped the sex was worth the price of her traitor hood. Love should mean not giving up or walking away-no matter what.

The prick leaned down to kiss Buffy. He had Angel's hair and body, but not the eyes. The eyes were dull and dim; no quick reflexes or burning proof of desire to live, to repent, to be something other than the status quo. Buffy had a dummy for a man; a personal scarecrow. Spike suppressed a second snarl.

"The name means nothing," Buffy coldly proclaimed before she got up and walked off. The cold soldering prick of a man looked backwards and grinned. William looked back down at his full cup of coffee just as Buffy's heels clicked his direction again.

Buffy put on a big performance with her sigh. "Look, here's Willow's number. Maybe she can help you. I hope Angelus gets better, but don't expect any future help from me."

Spike held the card closely between his palm and chest. He wanted to thank her but she merely snarled with her eyes as she walked away, and the waitress went back to her want ads. Spike and Cordelia had more than lost touch with the Amcroft Offices. Spike's mind raced a mile a minute. _If there was a way to crack into the offices of the Watchers, maybe use Wesley_, but then he stopped. Wesley had been killed in New Zealand on a lonely night battling alongside his angry Slayer student. No vampire would be able to waltz in any sort of catacomb and find information. Especially not for the souled version of Angelus; even with the protection of the Powers.

He turned the card around in his hands until it crinkled at the corners. He mulled it upon his return to the Hyperion; then a howl from Angel sent a pulse through his right forearm. In dread, he dialed Red. Chris' gruff voice greeted him. He was pulling phone duty that night. Spike informed him, short but as politely as he could maintain that he needed to talk to Willow or Oz.

"Why don't you want to talk to me? Don't you think I could help?" There was seriousness, but also this contemptuous wink to Chris' voice.

Oz finally came on the com link. "Hey, what can we help you with, Spike?"

There was an unsure tone in his voice, as if to ask _friend or foe_. Spike didn't blame the wolf for the bad blood. He had done more than his share to deserve it. But now, if at any time, he needed the old lines of rivalry to disappear. Cordelia appeared on the other side as the phone conference became a Skype conference.


	5. Chapter 5

Two worlds were converging once again to stop one undead from falling away like a midwinter's snow into the pages of history. The rooms in Amcroft Row emptied. Xander was told Spike needed something and not that it had anything to do with Angel. Willow wanted him to be impassionate, even knowing it was impossible. Spike was startled to see how Willow had transformed; she looked inside as he felt outside. He was able to compose his face human enough for the impromptu meeting. He hurried through formalities; not knowing how long his composure would keep.

Chris whistled. "You two look like hell. What is going on over there?"

Willow, Oz, Xander, and Riley looked at him, locked into annoyance mode. This was no time for jokes; it felt like apocalypse time. There was that mood. That mood that sprinkled doom upon them all. Spike and Cordy looked into Willow and Xander's eyes.

"Angel's gone off the deep end. He hasn't lost his soul, we wish the explanation was that easy. For some reason, he howls and screeches and says only one word that doesn't mean anything to anyone but him. He says Anorous. He chants it in his sleep. He won't eat, barely breathes, insomuch as he can, and no one can reach him. We need your help; your research, anything. Angel is going to die."

Xander suppressed the gasp in the pain, which was pretty easy to do considering he felt dizzy, even though he was sitting. His Angel needed him. It explained the night at the jazz club. But he would shake it off. He always had; even when Angel had gone to hell. Because, like Buffy had learned the hard way, the world was black and white. He would save Angel, but only because it meant something to Spike and because of Cordy. His priorities would be pure.

_That's it_, he told himself, _pure motives are all I need and I will survive this. The Zeppo always survives_. Willow cornered him as the meeting ended and asked him about his personal feelings; if he'd be able to cope. It sounded strange for her to say and for him to hear; both knowing neither was really in any sane state.

But, as always, the work happened; the catacomb of searching was separated into the dusty corners of the library left by Giles and into searches and cross-references for the name in the spreadsheets of new data. So they searched in two hour shifts. Xander and Willow took the first shift and as daylight broke; they fell exhausted in front of the computer and some random Latin book describing Grecian demons and pagan spells. The dust from the front of the runes was shook out of Xander's hair by Riley as his shift started. From the com, Spike searched through the files with zeal; pounding against the wall of destruction layering them all.

No one had talked in hours; set to the rhythmic task of research and donuts, so perfected in the early days. There was no passion; just an undisrupted urgency to help the fallen Angel. Willow went into work exhausted. She hid the bloodshot eyes well and propped herself up during story time as her watch clicked away until her next research block with Xander. She doubted he would wait for her; Angel was involved. Her mind replayed all the spurned hate that had fueled his desire and love that he had whispered about to her during her time with Tara.

Even though she had heard his profession as she was exiting the coma state the first time they tried to "curse" Angel; she understood love was a fickle beast. And so she knew that Xander and Spike were consumed creatures. Her mind drifted as the children learned in a bright circle about Camelot, ladies in the water and other such fantasies. Then one child totted over with this dark hair and dark eyes.

There was nothing incredibly remarkable about her, but she totted with a certain authority. Willow scooped her up and the child whispered two words into her ear: Robin Hood. The two words sent a chill through Willow's spine. During her lunch "break", Willow rushed back to the row and explained what had happened to Cordelia over Skype. Cordy was able to ask the PTB, and they confirmed the child's abilities at prophecy. The work came to a head in the mythic section near English and French literature. Xander held in his hands gracefully-bound and ivory-enlaidend ivy covering it.

It seemed to hum in his hands. His eyes had a quizzical look as he brought it to the conference table. Several pairs of eyes hovered around the cover; afraid to open it. They heard Angel's voice through Spike's side of the link com and Willow grabbed the book from Xander, ripping the clasp off. Dear Willow, the bookworm, had to take the lead. Had to help save Angel; one of the only ones as strong as she. She devoured the words like a spell, an incantation, some form of an answer.

Robin Hood had another name. His name had been changed to Robin Hood by Little John. His lore, his specialty, had not been philanthropy, but had been demon hunting. Had Angel known him; been hunted by him? An expert marksman; it fit with the breakdown's entrance running through the Hyperion. It explained the sick green jungle fever in his eyes. Hope broke through Cordy first. She would not speak, but she could not force her lip to stop quivering into a slight smile.

Answers; like her bright beacon in the night, some sort of freedom, redemption for hours of cold tears and helpless shrugs. Robin Hood had been known as Anarobine by Maid Marion; her secret name for her lover. His father had called him Andrexorous. On the next page, a silvery sketch showed his arrows and quiver; devious catching and brilliantly intelligent devices that no one would think of until almost twenty years from the present. The silver sketches on the next page made Cordy faint and Spike grimace as he held her upright. Chris took hold of the book in reverence and fear when it fell from Willow's hands. He lifted the picture to Xander's eyes. They met like a mirror. Xander was Anorous.


	6. Chapter 6

A part of Xander wasn't sure how to feel about being the cause of Angel's recent pain. He was entitled to feel a sense of responsibility for his past lives, he supposed, but what had he ever done to Angel? Wasn't Dead boy incapable of that sort of fear? Hadn't his reign of death on England and France made him immune to such a, what was the word, human shortcoming? To say Xander panicked would be a shortcoming. That's how Cordy saw it in retrospect. Unexplainable is how most of the former Scoobies saw it. It was like seeing Giles or Ethan as mass murderers.

Xander ran hard when he had the change to slip away. Ran for introspection; ran from the photo. From the news he could be the solution. He ran and switched through rows so as not to be followed. His legs finally gave out in screaming burn from his calves, but he wasn't sure that Willow and Oz weren't an incredible distance behind anyways.

Spike had wanted to jump through the screen as Xander bolted. His insides screamed out, _where are you going? You have to save him somehow!_

Chris, the only non-invested member, was the calm one. "We need to give Xander some space and time. In the meantime, what do we do? What does this new information mean?"

Secretly, the outsider was pleased at the outcome. Even Xander was as imperfect as the rest of them. It pleased him to learn such information. He had never asked about the past of the others; he could have simply researched, but didn't feel inclined to risk it so much. There was a risk of attachment involved that wasn't much of a thrill to him. Angel was dying and Keller had no doubt Xander would come back soon. That's what Xander did; run for air and then came back down to the depths of the demonic sea.

Oz spoke up, the first to get a handle on the situation. "Keller is right. Xander's going to need just as much time and support as Angel. Plus, this gives us more time to plan something to try and snap Angel awake."

Spike hated rationality sometimes, but the were beast was right. Oz moved behind Keller to show support and then turned to Willow. "In fifteen minutes, go and find Xander. If you need me I'll help to track, but I have a feeling you won't need me so much. Cordy, you go talk to the PTB and ask them about the situation between Angelus and Anorous. They should know the history. Knowing the past should help us in both the present and future. Huh, it works for things outside of high school. Anyways, Spike be prepared to move Angel if we can't come to you because I'm sure this will involve something messy. Just be prepared for anything. Here at Amcroft Row, we'll keep things running with further research and see what we can find. Does two hours sound good to everyone?"

Riley smiled as he looked up from his chair at the wolf who had taken command in Xander's absence. There was something to be said for instinct; for knowing the right time to speak and yet for being filled with subdued sage as well. Riley had to suppress the urge to ruffle the wolf's hair, and even a part of his smile. He always seemed to feel Willow glaring down at him as of recent.

Xander only stopped even walking when he had lost track of his heartbeat. His legs were like the lead you feel after a marathon. He was sure he had escaped Angel; that he had made Cordy, Anya, and even Buffy matter more than Angel. But here he was, confronted with the one beast that had gotten to places in his soul even he hadn't seen. The way the cool skin had touched him. A hand on his shoulder; a bare chest on his back. Nights spent watching bad movies with worse popcorn. It could all be equated and then stuffed down into the messiness of adolescence.

But now, Xander held tight into himself. Tight into suppressed memories of the tossing and turning of Angel and Angelus. Tight into the Angel who had shown him into the field of battle, both of demonic varieties and otherwise. He had secretly learned sword fighting from Angel to be well-equipped; had studied herbs under advisement as well. Shattered, Xander looked into his own reflection in an oil stain and wished it were bigger. Big enough to take him face down. If Angel were to die, really die, Xander would be to blame. Alexander LaVelle Harris-murderer. The rest of the demons were just faces; this was so much more. But how could he help this man? Too many questions and not enough air for him to breath.

Xander slumped down and tried to find silent tears to cry in desperation, in this need for feeling. He had cried, begged for Angel for so long, and now he wanted it, but wanted to walk away just as badly. Vengeance is a sword of double-edges. Only a handful of others understood what it was like to love or admire Angel, for any side of him, and most of them were just as poisoned as Xander. There was no one to talk to or turn to. Xander turned toward the sky. He proclaimed to all the drifting clouds.

"Now would be a good time for some intervention! Isn't there anything out there that could help me? If you want me to believe then show me what to do!"

"I could help you." There was a cool breeze about the voice as Xander faced the shallow beach created by the docks. Of course, that is, if you want my help, truly want it. It was Buffy. A Buffy from long ago; radiating with a charisma and warmth Xander couldn't remember. She had a light blue shadow floating around her; a protection for her aura.

"Who are you?" The words trembled to the surface of his lips.

"Me? I'm Buffy. I was sent with a message; sent to be a guardian angel of sorts for you. The angelic host is worried about what's going on just as much as you, Xander. All the players and their parts are very connected, and we want to help Angel just as much, if not more, than Spike or Cordy does."

The exclusion stung Xander deep. "You think I'd let him die?"

"I think it's capable of your humanity, yes. What's one more bloodsucker walking the earth? Take its face and its soul and you could theoretically kill anything."

"I didn't even know you were dead, Buffy. Wouldn't Willow have said something?"

"Willow gave up magic; gave up that intuition. She's bright, but she's not that good. What do the details matter? The point now is; do you want the message or not?"

Xander stopped for a moment. "This is gonna change my life, isn't it?"

Buffy smiled with sorrow in the exchange. "It will change everything. The message is simple if you really want to hear it: Love changes all. Love heals all. Love brings all things full circle. Love conquers all. Think of this as your cosmic greeting card. "

"That sounds pretty vague; especially for someone as jaded as me, Buff."

"Yeah, I know, but don't kill the messenger and all that. Xander, this choice is yours. No one would blame you for putting Angel out of his misery, but think about it, isn't it possible he's been just as miserable as you these past years? Did you ever wonder how hard leaving was for him? Or maybe as to why he left?"

Xander felt the guilt knowing under the questions he'd asked and all those bitter tears he'd regretted never crying. He'd never asked Angel why he left; even at him just being a phone call away. It had occurred to him, but the broodiness was this thick shell not even love had been able to penetrate. And there had been quite a bit of love and passion to go around. "Can you give me any hints at all?"

"Afraid not, Xan. The messenger is only allowed to know her message and to wish the receiver all the best. Xander, I do wish you the best. I hope you make the right choice and I pray you find solace in it. It's a short and lonely road to Val Halla, my friend. I wasn't lucky enough to hold him, and neither were you. But maybe love could still change everything. Were all romantics, which is why continue to fight beyond any rationale. It all boils down to the fact that we believe. What do you believe in, Xander Harris?"

She caressed his cheek with her hand. "Because, as she smoothed his hair, we all believe in something. We're all watching and rooting for you, Xander. Good luck." He looked away as the dimming sun skimmed her eyes and filled the water with brightness. He found himself crouched and sitting as Willow came around the corner.

"Xander, there you are. I can't even imagine how tough this must be. "

"Tough, this is nothing. It's just another vamp that needs to be dusted or another demon to be vanquished. It's nothing new."

"But it's Angel, Xan; Your Angel."

Xander gave her a look.

Willow shook her head, defiant of the look. "Xander, don't be surprised," Willow continued on as she slid down the wall to where he was holding himself with his knees and she smoothed his hair, playing with his bangs a little, "I knew what was under that layer of smoldering insights. You went from being an insecure boy to a somewhat less gawky heroic man. It was no mistake he entered our lives, and your heart followed. Here's your chance to pay him back; to be his hero for once. Please think about it Xander. "

Xander tried to smile, but it came out as more of a weak wince. "I have thought about it. There's not much to think about. Even as just a comrade; I would help him and expect the same kind of courtesy in return."

She squeezed his arm as he began to walk back towards the building. "You sure about this?"

"Yeah. And even if it gets crazy, hey, that's the Zeppo's middle name!"

Xander could hear her mutter as he walked away, "I thought your middle name was Francis."

The night of searching for context and clues proved just as fruitful as the first day of actual research. Spike paced as Cordy consulted the PTB and was somewhat out of the picture. There was no information on the real doings of Robin Hood; although research also somewhat consisted of watching a Kevin Costner version of his life (which was as close to accurate research as there was to get on the subject).

"Maybe someone should write a book after we're done so others will have information. "

"Information on what?" Riley asked as the conference table, piled over with books, charts, and curvy spell wording. "We're not even sure what happened yet."

Cordy had a knack for good timing. She returned semi-glowy from the chambers of the PTB hall with a clear stone. She cradled the stone like a child. Her smooth face was marred by worried lines.

"What did they say, Cordy?" Spike's voice was down to a whisper of worry at this point, devoid of most other emotions at this point. Angel was losing weight, mass, and sanity every second they wasted.

"This clear gem", she began, "is the last remaining in a lineage; a line of leaf spirits that chase demons. Before Slayers were chosen, the male heirs to the kingdom were hunters of demons. They stood on the front lines. Many of the heirs later became Watchers to the original Slayers, but seldom made contact. Each demon connected now goes into these fits and apparently the history between Angelus' demon and Xander's past is a bit complicated."

Cordelia continued to speak into the silence as everyone soaked up her words. "The PTB want this to go away almost as badly as we do, apparently it wasn't part of their plans. For this to work, a spell must be chanted in the room with the demon's greatest love and greatest enemy in different points in the room. We'll need you in LA as fast as an airplane can carry you."

The words stuck in Riley's throat as he asked them. "What about Buffy?"

Cordelia shook her head. "I asked, but apparently in the soul mate realm the two were never meant to be."

"This is good, because she wanted nothing to do with the deal at all. She'd rather see him dead then not be worried. Spike spat the information out.

Xander kept the information that an apparently dead Buffy had spoke to him to himself, though whether it was a lie or simply someone trying to cheer him on was unclear. "So, is this spell exclusive to the demon Angelus or to Angel and his soul?"

"We're hoping and counting for an either or, mainly because the PTB were unsure, but they were sure that both Spike and Xander were key."

Spike interrupted into everyone's thoughts. "Please, just come as quick as possible. Every second any of us waste is another second for him to fade. Please, don't make me stake my grandsire."

Riley nodded, in slight disbelief that he was trying to make Number 17 feel better. "Don't worry, Spike. We're on our way."


	7. Chapter 7

As the boys packed weapons and a change of clothes for spells, Willow leafed through transportation spells and anything referencing soul mates. Her bag was full of dusty, yellow-bound leather volumes by the time they entered the small craft terminal. She explained between breaths as they ran to the plane; there was no way to mass transport and it would have taken all of Tara and her energies in the old day to transport one. Giving up evil had it's downfall in this case.

But the airline was predictable and the flight safe; there were all manners of charms available for flight and even Chris, foregoing his religious disbelief, had taken to a little patron saint statue. The turbulence and storm began appearing as the plane circled Utah. No explanations were given by the captain, but the group had right to be tense. Oz opened the window shade and there were things riding the lightning bolts. Things that reminded Xander of something out of the Fantastic Four with fangs.

The left engines were the first to go. The plane plummeted downwards. The charm spells created a seal with the air and helped Willow to guide the plane downwards gently. The pilots' heads had been sliced by glass and the one other passenger was zapped with a weak Tabula Rasa spell as the gang slid from their seats and exited to the nearest town. It was an eerily calm mining community featuring exactly one YMCA and exactly one movie theatre. Dinner was some sort of fried steak truckers eat; although nobody had much of an appetite.

After the quick call from Oz, Spike readied Angel for any sort of driving moment and gently zipped him in a cargo bag so he wouldn't be zapped by anything and set around a wreath of incense to protect the darkened, fitted handicap van they had gotten for emergencies like these, although they had laughed while saying it, this was as ludicrous an emergency as ever. Tension filled the air as one van drove in the direction of the mining town about four hours out, for a sane driver. Salvation lay over the mountains he heard from Cordelia as he drove. Spike wasn't sure about all that. He'd just be happy to dream of something other than having his Angel back.

_Terror lay across this canyon, _Willow thought as she incanted protection and readied herself to understand what the gem's power would consist of. A useless wattage house across a rusty dam is where they met. Riddled with age and groaning with dust and cobwebs; it seemed perfect to culminate years of brewing emotion. Cordy hadn't let go of the gem since receiving it, not able to bear letting go of it as thought it were a child.

Spike had used half of his emotional strength just getting Angel to the building and Riley had to assist the feeble vampire. Angel lay gently on the cold floor; a disheveled mess in a canvas bag. Xander hadn't seen the vamp in several years and his first reaction was to run to hold him. Willow couldn't restrain herself and teared up slowly for the first time in a very long while.

Oz cleared his throat, knowing he had no right to be level-headed, but somebody had to be. "Hey guys, I know this is really not a happy time, but we came to save Angel right. We gotta dig deep right now, otherwise nobody is gonna be able to carry themselves out of this."

Xander knelt at Angel's side without speaking. _Why'd I ever let you go_? Xander wiped a spot of blood from his eye. "Please, hold on," he begged the specter of his former love. "Please, you must hold on."

Angel screamed as his head tilted and he recognized Xander, but only as Anorous. Willow moved Xander out of his direct line of vision, but not far beyond Angel's visage. She ordered Spike to a perch over by a window as she came out of her emotional stupor. Cordelia found herself at Angel's feet. The three made a conducted triangle. All the books that understand such ancient clear runes condone the use of the strongest weapon symbol, which is the triangle where poison and love are both concerned. Willow stood back and joined the others in off-side group as the clear gem began to glow.

"Something must be working," Cordy gasped. She shivered as she extended the glowing shard over Angel's body. She cried, shaking, and the tears dropped onto Angel's crumpled shirt.

Xander felt naked and raw for first time in a long while. "Willow, are there any words to this spell that you found?"

Willow shook her head. "None of the books can pronounce any of the incantations, not even what I could read of. But what seems to be clear is that the words come from the people connected. The words of his greatest enemy and greatest love will reveal these things. Your heart is the only one that knows the words of this spell."

Spike felt a hate rise up in him. "You bastard", he began as he spat out the window, "I've been chained to you for so many years. Most of the time it was lying in wait and learning your weakness, your fondness for altruism. In the early days, we shared blood and pain; torturing and preying on weak superstition. Seeing you like this; I know it can't be you. There's no sport or good coming from this. Wake up. You must breathe and eat. If you don't live; I can't live. Being on top of the food chain is horror without you."

A yellow beam extended from the top of Spike's hair to the soul of his feet and fed into the pale white chasm of a beam. Cordelia screamed as her hands begin to burn and she dropped the gem on Angel's stomach as she fell to her knees, looking at the blisters in stunned disbelief. Spike's words caused the gem to float of his own devices as his body and bones began to melt away. "Wake up, you bastard," he began to say as the gem sucked William inward without him even noticing.

The air stilled in the abandoned place as Xander began to weep. "How many lives?" Xander began to burn blue through his eyes.

Cordy rushed with pain racking her body, pushing Xander to the floor as her eyes flashed white. "No, Xander!" She screamed as she pushed him out of the beam's path. She wouldn't lose any more people, not to history or fevers or gems. Cordy began to melt as the gem caused Angel to sputter back to life.

Xander's knees buckled. "I wasn't it, then? All this time, and I wasn't his greatest love?" _I should have known_. The ruin turned pale green as Angel's eyes opened and the world changed before the remaining Scoobies, coming into place just as Cordelia seemed to melt into oblivion. The rust and ancient metal was replaced by a lush, dark forest speeding by. What they saw was the shadow of Angel darting about and a swift silver cloak chasing him. Arrows, sharp and merciless, spread around at different points. Angel darted into a church graveyard and tripped. Anorous menaced upon him.

"Demon called Angelus; you are charged with evil beyond all measure. State your case for innocence, if one there be." Anorous had a booming voice of judgment that shook like peals of doom bouncing off the canyon. "Tongue tied," this past Xander continued haughtily, "Have I made you fear your own existence finally, you petty killer?"

"I've changed," Angel tried to howl, but was cut down by a striking arrow with four claws.

Anorous hissed at the very idea. "Your kind never changes. The world is black and white Angelus. You shall not survive by my light's watch."

Xander was the first to move, a ghost inside the scene. He stood, suspended in time and morbid fascination, as he killed Angel, the repentant tortured man he had loved. Xander touched the arrows as Anorous pulled back the string and then Xander reversed the arrow so it would hit him.

"Love conquers all," Xander whispered as the arrow shot Anorous. Anorous' wound, his wound, bled the same sick green that Spike had seen in Angel's eyes.

"Four years of tireless effort," Anorous muttered in annoyed amazement, "how could this be the given end of fate?"

A copy of Willow appeared alongside Anorous in a silver robe. "Brother? This foul demon must pay for his treachery!"

All Anorous could do was grin as green blood began to flow down his chin and he fell. Willow saw the look in her eyes. Willow saw her hair turn as a bright as a flame. Willow stepped in front of the beam and deflected it toward the gem Cordelia had brought, breaking the ancient stone containing poisonous memories, presumably the bodies or spirits of Spike, Cordelia, and more than one flying incantation of despair.

In sympathy with her past self, Willow turned pale and collapsed on the other side of the Angel. The gem recollected the leafy territory inside of itself and bounced onto Angel's stomach where it rolled into a far crack and left to be flung down the mountainside. The triangle had been completed. Angel lay moaning in the center as he began crying sick green tears. Xander lay to his left, falling onto his knees in an emotional coma. And a pale Willow lay collapsed on Angel's right.


	8. Chapter 8

Spike's head reeled. This was the second, and if he had anymore say, absolutely the last time he'd let any gem screw with his physical being. He knew it was partially the adrenaline that had kept him alive, insomuch as he could actually be alive, and that he was really annoyed. _Imagine Xander without his precious jelly donuts_, he thought, _this must be what it feels lik_e. He felt like letting out William the Bloody and using that anger, hell-bent on hurting whoever it was who had done this to him, Cordy, and Angel.

His eyes popped open at the thought of Angel, yet all he could see and feel was the back of a dusty cavern wall. Even in his enhanced vampiric state; the gem had done a number on his body. He reached his arm out and brushed across a limp portion of flesh, most likely an arm. He knew it was Cordy and that she couldn't have possibly survived if he was feeling so drained. She had worked so hard for Angel and him. He hoped that she hadn't felt any pain at all. And that she would be spared whatever rage would come out.

Spike barked out into the distance that he could not see. "I know you're there. I can hear you scoffing at me, at us. Well I hope you're satisfied because you've officially pissed off the scourge of Europe."

There was an amused sigh, female from the sound of it. "Your frantic snarls mean nothing to me. I'm not that easily impressed. Bet you can't even stand with knees as weak as yours from the teleportation spell in that gem. And indeed Spike was already beginning to sway under his own weight, causing the voice to continue bantering on. "You'll find that traveling through gems makes your insides feel like liquid and any assertion on your part for your muscles will be useless. You are a rottweiler with no teeth or muscles, dear Spike."

Spike merely coughed up a bit of cooled blood in response. His abs shook and rebelled as he tried to tense his muscles, to move forth with purpose.

"How cute," the female voice began to reply, "he's the little engine that could. Too bad courage isn't enough to impress us."

Spike could barely manage a growl in his throat. "Us? Who's with us here then? Some coward lackey you shanghaied cause you thought I'd be a pushover?"

Spike felt a wind rush around him and his fingers gripped sand on the bottom of the cavern. His sight had returned enough that he could tell the light of torches were being cast on the shadows of his captor. "So what, your plan was to blind me and have your wicked way with me on a cave wall? Gotta tell ya, there are other ways to go about that."

The captor's voice dropped in disappointment. "No, you and the Seer are an unfortunate side effect of the unpredictability of the gem. But I think thats enough questions for you, maybe for the rest of your ...death."

Spike could hear the whistling slice of a metal weapon coming nearer to his right shoulder, possibly for decapitation purposes or splitting his body in half. Spike spread one leg in front and lifted himself in a roll onto so that he would end up coming out of the near somersault standing. Spike used momentum since he wasn't sure how long it would hold, but he had to try and keep whoever this bitch was busy. He would give someone, anyone, enough time to redeem his sire from the depths of his sickness.

When he realized the weapon had successfully missed him, Spike got cocky. "You missed, oh impotent evil one."

The female scoffed in return. "Did you actually think I was aiming for you? I want your sight to come back so you know that I've won. I want you to hear your own screams right before the final stake disintegrates your body into ash. But before that, I want fun since I'm new to this whole villainly thing. Of course, when I say fun I do mean fun for me. Of course, it would have been more fun if it had been Xander, but I'll take what I can."

Spike could see the glint of a sword still at the side of the silent partner. It was drawn in a slight defensive stance, but he knew from experience that it wouldn't remain in defense for long. It took such a long bout of concentration to even tell the sword was in defense that he was taken aback when a meaty paw grabbed his throat and hauled him a couple more feet in the air.

Spike could feel the pulse of the man's hand, and Spike used his unadulterated rage to try and break his way free. His hands reached up, but couldn't free the grip or even break a finger away. His face vamped out as he struggled and he could hear than jeering of the sword bearer in his ear, so over confident based on strength. Spike only heard the movement of the blade across his hand as his head began to swim in its own thoughts right before he blacked out.

- (Back at the abandoned dam)

Xander was the first one to awaken; at least that's what it looked like as the team held its collective breath. No one knew what the protocol was for such an obviously trapped mission. Two key members were most likely dead; although magic had proven to not kill but do worse things, so it might have been easier to hope for death. Even with the gem disabled, Angel was still crying sick, green tears but he had mercifully stopped babbling and shrieking.

Xander coughed up a bit of blood and it mingled with the sweat on his brow; maybe from the jungle or maybe from his brush with death. The hammer from the Nords came as it felt Xander's distress, falling from the sky and bouncing off the floor until it was at his side. He could sense the spirit of the Nords within granting him further strength to stand and presumably fight. But what was there to fight? What had happened? Had they cured Angel at the cost of Spike and Cordelia?

Xander felt words again as they began to flood in his brain and throat, "Too many questions and so few answers." Originally, his plan had been to prop himself up on his knees. Riley was there to help in an instant when it seemed that his knees weren't going to cooperate. He put a hand to the small of Xander's back while Xander fumbled with his hammer until he looped it under his arm like a crutch.

Xander's breathing was labored and it didn't help when he looked back to see Chris kneeling at Willow's side, trying to bring her back with gentle slaps on her cheek. Oz was trying to shield Xander's gaze from Willow while wiping Angel's tears away and speaking to him in the calmest voice that any of them had ever heard him give. Xander had to force himself not to collapse again. The weight of the gem had seemed to reach him through a deep part of himself and whether it had unleashed parts contained or what not, it was clear that the thing had been dangerous.

Seeing the merciless way he confronted Angel, not Angelus but Angel, even in a past life did quite a number to him. Xander wondered as he looked back on the nearly comatose Angel if he had ever remembered Xander as Anorous on any of the nights they had been together or if he had ever felt like prey when they touched.

Xander knew Angel had seen things inside of him. Things he hadn't bothered to see in himself. But how deep? Were there other lives where he had tried to destroy Angel? Had it always been this way? He didn't know how to block out any of those questions, they demanded answers that he simply didn't have space in his frail human body to hear. Riley could feel Xander's muscles quivering under the weight of his issues. He looked backwards and glanced at Oz. Riley understood it so well; maybe too well. Damn, that gem had made everything worse. Granted, Riley had never been a big Spike fan, or even a partial Spike admirer, but this wasn't the way it should have gone. How could everything have ended so disastrously? How could they all have been so blindingly stupid?

*************** (Back at the cave)

"Of course it was a trap!" The villainess quipped to its cohort or possibly Spike, "do you really think it was coincidence the PTB had the stone Cordy needed? They are so hell-bent on destiny and prophecy that they never see the things they should right in front of them. It was too easy. And poor, sweet Xander; he was so ready for this, lulled into such a false sense of security. Oh, I forgot you were here Spike! Still feeling powerful and ready to conquer the world?

"Why, you self-righteous," Spike began to writhe and thrash, only to be met with the power of strong manacles. He was attached to the wall and Cordy's arm was gone. There was no telling how long Spike had been unconscious. If only evil beings had more clocks in their hideouts.

Spike strained against the pressure of metal tight on his wrists. He knew it was over for him. They would torture him, cut body parts away and wait for them to regrow. He was the greatest torture victim of all; a perpetual bleedin' starfish. That was one of the greatest drawbacks to being a vamp. Spike suppressed a growl when a whip slashed his cheek. There was no blood to draw, but the force sent him reeling backwards. The whipping arm began to come into focus first. The pain drew his eyesight sharply as the forearm retracted. The blade was set in an attractive silver scabbard at the side of his accomplice, decidedly having a slim if somewhat masculine outline.

"You'd better be careful, mate, or that will be the last time you use that arm."

The brute had a deep voice. "So cocky for a chained bastard, aren't you?"

"You'll find there's a lot about me you can't fathom," Spike retorted.

The accomplice chuckled darkly. "We'll see. You'd be surprised what can happen to a hero in a matter of hours after being tortured. You'll be begging for the whip when I'm done."

The woman spoke again, still not clear enough for Spike to see if he knew her, only that she had a stone chair in the middle of this cave, blurry as it was. "I am curious about one thing though, Spike, did you enjoy the visit by the pig demons? Did they leave a delightful stain on your carpet?

Spike's eyes narrowed, well as much as he could feel them narrowing. "How did you know about the pig boys?"

The female gasped, shocked as if Spike didn't already know the answers to his own questions. "You'd be surprised how much we've studied about your little group of human rebels and their powers."

Spike shook his head. "You're out of the loop, love. Red's stopped using magick and Tara's been long since gone."

"We're not talking about the witches or even Cordelia, the bitch who got herself a set of powers and demon testies. We're talking about him."

Spike didn't understand, but that was because these fiends didn't seem to be done gloating. He was sure they would elaborate on just which him they meant, although it was almost a guarantee that him meant Angel. But either way was fine; he'd find a way out. Bloody James Bond had nothing on him.

Angel's throat growled from thirst. He awoke stiff and bloated; unaware of surroundings save that it was dark. Thick secretions came as he rolled his sleeve over his eyes. Or was that his sleeve? He couldn't seem to move anymore and wasn't actually sure what sensations were real and what was a nightmare.

The light began to come in waves at first. He tried weakly to make a checklist of body parts still around or if he was breathing oxygen and whatnot, but couldn't even muster the energy to think. Angel pumped his knee and he heard a familiar gasp. His head wouldn't turn due to the thick glop covering his eyes or maybe because of that extreme diet he had been on, but Angel knew the quiet voice that was speaking to him, keeping him from concentrating on the bad.

It was from so long ago; he tried to reach through the stars to the familiar voice. Oz was prepared for that. "Don't try to move Angel; you've been through quite an ordeal. Xander's already beyond worry and we don't want to start moving you just yet. Are you hungry at all?" Oz's voice came out in a whisper, but it sounded like a trumped to Angel.

Oz reflected on the fact that Angel being awake could be just as bad for Xander as for Angel in an unconscious state. No one could quite say what the gem had done, but in Oz's experience it would be best to try and wait it out, let things unfold and deal with them until a bigger picture becomes more clear.

The first real phrase Angel had said in days came out now, uncensored. He whispered in a deep monotone, already thinking of someone besides himself. "Xander. Where is he?"

Oz had to hold him down. "For now Angel you need to stay still. Trust me; Xander's not going anywhere." For the love of God, stay still, Oz thought to himself.

Angel's tears began to lighten to where he could sputter out a cough and tilt his head, his neck popping in groaning rebellion. "What's happened? How long have I been out?"

Oz bit down on his lip. "It's hard to say. No one is sure exactly, but we believe you were poisoned and this may have been a trap. Not to lay a big trip on you right now but we're pretty sure Spike and Cordy are dead. The PTB gave us some sort of gem to heal you and well Willow, well she used some magick and might be dead as well. We're not really sure of anything right now."

"What?" Angel's eyes felt rusted and pained from the normal tears he started to shed. "What have I done?"

Oz shook his head, he really didn't need Angel going into brood mode right now. That would be the least helpful move he could make. "Angel, you were hurt and no one could figure out why. You've been mumbling the same words in your sleep for days and not eating. Spike was going so crazy with worry and if this gem is reliable; it might have something to do with Xander in a past life trying to kill you. Does Anorous mean anything to you, Angel?"

Angel remained as calm as he could under the circumstances, feeling strangely at peace with unloading this long burden onto Oz, who would keep the facts without the heavy pain. "Yes, but I was hoping he'd never know. Things were going so well between us right up until when I left Sunnydale. I always knew he had it in him to be mighty, regardless of whether he was friend or foe. I was hoping someday, If I had to, that I would have have the strength to tell him."

Oz was internally shaken by Angel's candor. He'd never seen the brooding shell down so far. But this was the Angel underneath the heroics and speeches. This was the Angel, weak and hurt, and possibly the cause of more destruction that even he could have created. Oz held his breath. But apparently fate had other plans. Angel couldn't stop himself from wondering. "Please, Oz, you have to tell me that Xander's okay, even if its just a temporary lie."

The villainess was growing bored. "I'm afraid the manacles are enchanted, William. Please stop struggling, its not above you but its just not providing as much amusement as I'd hoped."

_Bloody hell_, Spike thought,_ this bitch is good_. _There's no way to break out of here at the moment, but maybe I can still stall and buy myself some extra time for the others_.

"Now, you will have to forgive me Spike, but curiosity has just gotten the better of me and I simply can't wait anymore. Let's just call the things that you know...vital information. You may not know that you know it, but you do. And I'd just like to know as well."

Spike hit her with a hard barb. "Sorry peaches, but you seem to have just as much intelligence as I'd be willing to give you. "

The creases in her forehead were starting to come into fuzzy view. His sight was returning slowly, too slowly. That gem must have been poisoned. "Oh, I'm not so sure about that."

There was a great ripping sound and a blast of stale wind against his chest as Spike's black shirt was torn down the middle. Spike found that his eyesight focused a bit better as his head was forced upward. His bare chest heaved in the damp humidity of the cavern. Sweat began to glisten on his chest almost instantly. Spike's eyes noticed the top of her head as it started to focus again, from the creases outward. It was greasy blond with dark roots striking down the front, as though she hadn't colored her hair in ages. Her companion must have been a head taller because Spike could only make out dreary dots for his eyes.

"Tell me Spike, I know you're pretty old and they weren't invented that long ago, but are you a car guy?"

William refused to dignify her question with a response, but blond girl seemed to take even that omission as a response. "Ah well, not every man can be in love with cars I guess. But I thought with that Billy Idol dye job of yours you'd like those corvettes that vroom. Can you vroom for me, Spiky?"

Spike couldn't have any more contempt than he felt right now. Even when Angel had been head of Wolfram and Hart.

"Awww, Spike doesn't seem to want to play; sigh. I guess we can just get on with it then." Spike heard the familiar swish of the sword return as it left its scabbard as she continued yammering on. "Tell me about how Xander is fairing these days."

Xander was out of strength for the moment. He was busying himself, knelt next to Willow and hoping she'd wake up. Trying to be oblivious but still noticing the now silent Angel; Xander tried coaxing Willow awake.

"I know this girl," he whispered in a somewhat hoarse and drawn voice that tried to drawn on the Zeppo of the past, "this fiery-haired princess. Who dreamed of leaving her castle and saving the world before she met her prince. One day, she met this girl named Buffy and they began to do just that. When Buffy fell in love," Xander took a moment to look at Angel and then turned back, "and risked everything the princess had worked for the princess didn't speak up. And Duke Xander, the princess' best friend, stood by her side."

The room fell into a hush as Xander continued to try and coax Willow awake. Angel's eyes floated to meet Xander. He could see the lad's concern and love emanating down into Willow. He wanted to try and help Xander, but Angel could do nothing. He was still too weak. Riley continued to flank Xander and Oz began to try and help Angel to sit up.

"One day," Xander continued, "an evil spread throughout the great kingdom Buffy commanded. A demon had come to destroy them all. But the bright princess knew what to do. She went into her room of treasures and brought out a bright stone, with the help of her teacher. She wasn't sure of just what to say, but the words came at the right moment. She was very brave in trying to save Buffy's first love from the demon. The princess fell into grave risk just once, but she was rescued with just a little bump on her head. Her duke was there by her side day and night, and when she awoke she heard his voice. He said that he missed the princess and that he needed her. That she should wake up. So please wake up. Wake up Will. I love you."

Xander brushed Willow's cheek and she shook her head and put her hands through her hair. "How does the story end?"

"The princess wakes up and saves the world, of course," Xander helped Willow onto her feet and then tried to pass her onto Oz; just like the last time she had been wounded, but the only person not occupied with someone was Keller.

Xander had nothing left to do but to look in Angel's eyes. They were sharp and clear again; a shade of blue that anyone else would have mistaken for another color. But Xander knew his eyes, his heart, and all the rest.

"I wish I would have opened my eyes and saw you first." Those were Angel's first words to Xander in almost a decade.


	9. Chapter 9

"What do you think you'll get out of torturing me, asking me about the boy? Or is it the boy that you're after? "

She tipped her hand a bit too far for Spike to see. "So he did love Angel, didn't he?"

Spike's voice turned hard. "What does it matter to you?"

Her shoulders shrugged, at least through the blurriness Spike thought it was her shoulders. "Oh, it matters quite a bit to me. You know, you never answered that question about cars, Spike. Tell me, do you know what the ingredients in tire sealant are?"

"Why don't you just go on your merry bloody unhinged way and leave us all to our lives?"

"Oh, I could do that. But then I wouldn't be having so much fun." She turned to her accomplice. "Hold our proud hero against the wall."

William could feel himself slammed backwards into the cavern wall. He was getting more tired of this every second. This splitting headache wasn't going away, and he was chained to the wall. In other circumstances, there could have been many fun scenarios, but he was just not in the mood.

His breath was sour like milk, matched the sour milk Spike imagined her to have. "Now, I would recommend you hold very still because this is really going to hurt."

Will felt the broad side of the sword against his pecs; still cool even in the sweltering heat of the cave. He could feel the sting from his sweat as the sword sliced a stripe from his collarbone to his right shoulder.

"How'd that feel?" She asked as if she didn't know. "You know, I do know how they make tire sealant. It's one of the simplest things in the world." She moved down to the cavern floor. "You start with sand. You know, sand is just such a great catchall. It has this gritty and absorbent property that makes it perfect to help seal things." She grabbed a handful, letting a bit seep through her long fingers with this atrocious red paint on them. "I wonder if it works on wounds too? Do you think we should find out?"

William made out a little pout in her lips before the searing pain of the sand hitting his sliced skin made him grit against the oncoming scream.

"Don't say things like that Angel; things you don't mean. I mean, fuck, I just saw myself almost kill you! So please, save us both from the insults to our intelligence, okay?"

"Xander, it's not an insult. I know we never discussed it, but maybe we should. Maybe we should talk about everything." Angel was hauled to his feet with Oz's help, but he couldn't walk an inch. There was a slight thud that moved Xander on the inside, but outside he remained stoic save for a slight wince Oz noticed.

Xander was more than embarrassed about having to have this out in public. He hadn't even let people that much into his private life back in high school. "Save your strength Angel. I don't think there's much to talk about anyways." Xander turned back to Willow, doing his best to ignore the vampire. "Willow, how are you feeling?"

Willow gave a hearty nod, even though she wasn't really feeling it. "I'm fine. We've gone through much worse ordeals than rogue gems. I'm a trooper."

Xander smiled. "I guess we really are troopers, aren't we?"

Angel didn't want to beg, but he just threw it into the wind. He couldn't deal with a decade long divide. "Xander, please."

Xander's sharp eyeball turned in fury to Angel. "No, Angel! We have nothing to talk about." He regretted the words the moment they left his mouth. With his jaw turned back he stood and faced Angel. There were little creases that formed on the inside of his mouth and a slight scar from a mission a few years back that furrowed. Angel noticed a confidence in his gait that he had never seen before. His boy had become a man. No wonder he was so hurt.

Willow started to open and close her mouth, and Xander took it the wrong way. In reality, he was just looking for a reason to explode. Turning around and giving everyone a feverish eyeball since he'd never gotten a chance to process anything that had happened. "Will everyone just get off my case? One thing happened. It was nothing more. I was a child then, and you, yes you Captain High and Mighty, high-tailed it out of town. Anyone care to know what Captain High and Mighty's powers are?"

"Xander, please don't make this harder than it has to be. If we," Angel struggled and groaned as Oz hopped along with him until he gently pushed Oz away to prove he could still stand on his own-weak or not, "talk this out. Come on."

Angel grabbed him by the elbow but Xander just exploded further. He must have just been due for it. "I don't want you touching me, Deadboy. How long has it been since you've eaten? Maybe you just need another meal; another helpless victim. Or maybe someone to sucker in and use like Buffy."

Those words stung Angel worse than falling on his knees. But Xander had more ammunition. "Or maybe I'm part of your handy dandy redemption plan; your own little pity party for table of one or two."

Years of spite and confusion shot, like bullets, into every word. "Maybe I made you feel better because you thought we mutually cared for each other. Well, I'm not a charity cause that you can just exploit because you think I'm weak. Team, we move out in ten minutes. Our acquaintance seems to be healed; our part of the mission is over. He can make his own way home."

"Xander, please, don't do this. Please listen." Angel didn't have any tears left to cry, but they were there. "I know it's been too long. You have every right to be confused or angry. Everyone struggles. Being a hero makes it worse, trust me. But I look at you now and I see someone who's grown, someone I could still love me even though I hurt him beyond belief."

"It doesn't matter; the gem didn't choose me."

Angel didn't want him to leave again. He couldn't let Xander just walk out like this. Even in a malnourished state, Angel found the strength to block Xander at the door.

"No, Xander, not this time. I'm not just letting you walk out the way that I did. You have to try and calm down and see things the way they are. William and Cordelia might have died to save me, to save us. Do you want that to be all in vain? I know you. You're not that selfish." Angel began encircling him, darting his eyes around every angle of Xander's frame, hardened with years.

"Do you think that you never meant anything to me, Xander? I can't believe that. Why would I have wanted to share parts of myself with you? Don't you think I've wanted to talk to you, to tell you, to hold you all these years? Don't give me any sob stories, because I've got enough of my own to tell."

Xander shook his head as he reached for the door knob. "Don't you ever talk to me like that Angel. You're not my father; you're not even my boy...lover anymore. I doesn't matter what we had. You turned and walked out. So go ahead and leave my life again. See if I care and who needs it."

Angel just spoke his answer quietly. "No." Xander was so angry that he couldn't even see straight anymore. Why was no one helping him? His entire team hadn't said a word or even moved since this fight had started. "Damn you, Xander, did you think any of this has been easy for me? It took me 252 years or so to find someone like you. And I can't take the chance that I could lose someone like you again."


	10. Chapter 10

"I don't know what you want me to say," Spike growled, "but I can guarantee you I can't tell you anything you don't already know."

"I disagree with you on that, William, and I think you know a great deal more than you give yourself credit for. But first, I'm really tired of you not focusing. In my hand, I have eye drops that will give you perfect vision again. So, if you would tilt your head back; that's a good Spikey."

Of course, Spike wasn't given a choice, and he silently cursed the large thing that had his neck in a vice grip.

"There, can you see us now?"

Tears began to roll down his cheeks from the sting of the eye drops, but what stung more was the visage before him. William the Bloody had seen many things. He had seen fashions change, hemlines raised, equality achieved, and safety laws for children come when he thought he never would. William had lived through genocides and world wars. But the shock of his captors rang truer and deeper than all this.

She was glad to finally be seen clearly, as though Spike being able to see her made everything authentic. "That's right. It's me. Were you expecting Amy?"

Spike's breath seemed to be taken away. "How could you do this? Any of it?"

She smacked her tongue against the roof of her mouth. "Don't you think the better question is how? That little spell of Willow's to bring all the slayers to power at once forced my hand even though I just had no idea. Once I was the top and there was nowhere else to go."

"But we had to stop the first evil; you agreed so yourself."

Her hair and hips swung as she worked her own maniacal ego into the equation. "Agreed? You think I agreed to fall in love with two vampires and an army man? Do you think I agreed to watch friends fall apart and die right in my face? No, destiny agreed for me at the trial of my life. Try going to heaven and hell, Spike. It's a real bitch."

"But you, you were good."

She tapped her foot on the ground. "Well, everyone had a price. And mine was Angel. Tell me Spike, how long were they together before he left? Was Angel cheating on me with Xander?"

Spike shook his head at Buffy. "Angel's not like that; Angelus might have been but Angel was too much of a coward. Buffy, all this for a lover's spat? You must have really gone off the deep end in your little midlife country town?"

He felt the force of a hammer come onto his chest and knock him back. The dusty ceiling shook as he reeled. "Don't you dare demean my mistress," the hired goon growled. He had Angel's strength, but like before none of the spirit.

Spike just ignored the pain; it was getting routine enough. "All these years Buffy, why couldn't you have just talked to someone about this? Good people are dead and even more could die."

"Who cares about them? I'm entitled; after all I've saved the world many times and I even had to sing once while doing it. Sure, I had to live in a dusty pit of a town and wear gingham for awhile, but that's what you go through for pure revenge."

"Buffy, love, you were always a little off but now you've gone completely round the twist. You can't help what's happened as much as I can't help what happened to me at the Initiative. Circumstances, lives, fate all go beyond our control Buffy."

"Don't tell me about circumstances," she screeched. "You don't know about circumstances. He was going to marry me."

Spike blinked. All these years and she was still convinced of that. "No, Buffy, he was never going to marry you. "

"Xander, it's all been a trap but it always is. All the things that have happened to lead us up to this point might be fate, or destiny or the Powers that Be, call it whatever you want, but it's all happened. We're here right now and the can of worms is open. So let me prove that no matter what; nothing really changed after I left."

Xander growled on the inside, "Well things changed for me like you couldn't believe."

Angel's right hand grabbed the middle of Xander's back and as much as the younger man struggled and as much as Angel was weak; there was a hunger to prove and say things that Angel hadn't desired to feel or let himself feel.

"It doesn't matter why I left unless it matters to you. I left out of fear; after Connor appeared I vowed not to let anymore time be wasted. And that should have included you; I won't let you hurt yourself anymore, especially not over me."

Angel grabbed a now shaking Xander with his left hand, placing it on Xander's shoulder. Xander couldn't stop himself from moving inward as Angel seemed to pull themselves together. They kissed for the first time in many years. The memories flooded back as Xander tried to release the frozen tears from his eyes. Angel had a way of sinking into your skin as you kissed him. They were locked lip to lip and when Angel let go, forehead to forehead.

Xander's kiss had remnants of the same sweetness Angel remembered, but there was something deeper to it now than ever before. Xander couldn't allow himself to feel all of this. His body wanted to; wanted to be held securely by Angel. But time had a savage hold on Xander's heart and the seeds of despair and confusion had corrupted whatever he chose to feel. The entire scene wasn't a glossy, dense love fest like Angel had wanted to picture upon being reunited with Xander.

And Xander, for his part, was still pretty adamant about some things. "I'm not your true love."

"That gem doesn't know what it's talking about."

"I...I tried to kill. For Christ's sake, Angel, I watched it happen! "

"It doesn't matter. Maybe you never succeeded in killing me, but I died for you on the inside after Sunnydale. And I've never been the same since the time we..."

Xander put a flat fist on Angel's chest, pulling his forehead away. "Stop, you have to stop this. You have to stop torturing my mind."

"I'm not."

"No, Angel, you have to be. I'm stronger than you now. You know the saying keep your friends close and your enemies closer? We'll that's what you did to me."

Angel took a step back. Surely Xander must have felt something in that kiss. He had given everything to it to try and prove himself.

"You've been lying to everyone to get everything you want, but now I see you for what you are." Xander's anger caused the hammer to begin to glow as he lowered it at his side in a defensive stance while his hands shook, still reeling with pain from the gem's manipulation; ready to charge.

His eyes began to glow a fierce white and his body began to hum.

"You're the worst kind of demon, Angel. You're the unassuming deceiver. I don't care what's happened in the past; I can't allow you to leave this building and misguide any others. This must end, Deadboy. You've had long enough. You've failed at redeeming yourself."

The good grunted. "Baby, I'm bored of this, can I please just finish the job?"

Buffy looked in admiration at her flat-lifed hunk. "No, tall dark and stupid; we have to wait for Xander to destroy Angel. That will hurt him worse than anything. Then we'll stake him; knowing he's lost his sire and he's helpless again."

Spike was taken aback. "Why would Xander destroy Angel? He loves Angel."

Buffy smiled. "Love is such a fleeting emotion. Especially when you feel double-crossed and suspect the one you love of treachery." Buffy scooped up her goon in a sloppy kiss. "Isn't that right, Liam, honey?"

Spike suppressed the gag he was feeling. He knew he had heard Buffy correctly, but there was so much that he didn't want to believe was really happening. Then Buffy had one of her famous 180 turn arounds. "Oh, I have a fun idea! Let's see what's on TV. Maybe there's a fight on!"

Spike had to find some way to stop all this, it was becoming painfully clear. This game had gone into overtime and everyone's life was at cost if Xander lost control of his mind and gave it to the primal energy of that hammer he had fought in the caves to retrieve. It really could mean the end of his world, and William wasn't sure there would be anyone to really bring Xander back. He didn't have a mate or even a best friend anymore.

It could mean judgment day for everyone, and that was not a pretty picture. Spike struggled with his manacles, but there was still no avail to it. His only hope was that the PTB knew what was going on and could turn this favorable for him before the world was destroyed. There was far too much at stake.

Buffy turned her back on Spike to use a large orb kept near her chair; which he assumed she used as her throne. A purple gem hung at her neck and she removed it to touch the orb. Shimmering glass focused into a deep blue haze and then clearer and clearer it came. Spike gasped as Buffy extended the orb to the center of the room and then used a mirror to create a far larger image. He watched helplessly as Xander and Angel came into focus on the mirror. Spike shivered and began to look around. Secretly he wondered if it was already too late.


	11. Chapter 11

"It's more than too late for you Angel or Angelus or whatever the hell you're calling yourself now! Its all the same man. I hope you're satisfied with the lengths you've drawn out to try and make everyone think you are a hero."

Angel began to back up from a crazed Xander. "Now, maybe I deserve to die for all the things I've done, Xander, but think about it. Why would I have told you I loved you and lied? What would I have had to lose? You were the one running from your past, not me."

Xander prepared to swing the hammer, which glowed with hot indignation. "I'm done listening to a wolf in sheep's clothing." Angel closed his eyes and waited for the rush of memories to come. He spread his arms out and somewhere he could hear evil cheering for his demise. "At least you can take death like a man," Xander sneered.

"No," Willow howled, "not like this!" Her face came in front of the blow and she stopped Xander's arm inches from her face. "I don't care how angry you are at him; you can't abuse your powers like this Xander."

"Get out of the way, Willow! You can't stop this from happening!"

"I can and I will."

With a simple twitch of her brow; the hammer was blown out of his hands and crashed outside of a window. Willow used her magic to pick off an essential rune and render it useless. "Did you fools honestly think I'd be willing to give up the protection I need as a fighter so quickly? You'll be thanking me for this, Xander."

"I won't thank you for anything. Get out of my way." Xander slapped Willow hard across the cheek.

"I'll give you that one for free; Xander, but you don't get another."

Willow got up, full of energy, and floating off the ground slightly. Her eyes glowed the same shade as Xander and somewhere Buffy had a perfect cackle ready to cheer them on.

Spike shook his head. "This isn't a game; it could be the end of us all!"

"Then let it come. Let the earth save itself for once. Liam, honey, how much butter did you put on this popcorn? You know that weight goes straight to my thighs."

Keller was in front of Willow instantly. "Don't you dare hurt her again," he snapped his head in all directions, daring any challengers.

"Thank you Chris," she bowed deeply, "at least someone is faithful to me."

Chris hissed as his eyesight landed on Xander. "I don't think I can kill you, but I'll be damned if I let you hurt her."

Riley growled, coming to Xander's defense out of respect for him and his leadership capabilities. "And I won't let you hurt him. Ever since you got here, Chris, you've been judging the rest of us. Being immortal doesn't make you better. If anyone is the demon here, the cold, calculating bastard, it's you. And Xander, you can't blame Angel for all your problems. It doesn't take two people to pick up a phone and talk."

"And what would you know about it, you fag?"

Xander pushed Riley out of the way. His muscles groaned as he fell over a box. Oz knelt where he head had hit and gave him a leaf to chew from a satchel at his side.

"Everyone needs to calm down; there is no good coming of any of this." Oz cradled Riley's head in his lap. He was still moving, but cautiousness got the best of Oz. "Stay down for right now Riley. Please, baby, I need you."

Willow countered, ready to unload that venom she had been bottling for far too long. "You need him? How long have you known him, Oz? Didn't I ask for you after my coma ended? Wasn't I enough for you?"

Oz shook his head. "That's unfair, Willow. Look, I know you're in pain and I know we're all really tense, but I'll answer you because you obviously can't just take a hint. No. It's that simple. I was never enough for you. I'm not; we're not, something to be conquered. The earth is not your plaything Willow. We didn't take away your magic to make you weak, but to make you stronger. Riley has never done that; in fact, he's put you ahead of himself many times. We've been cowering from you, Will, but I don't want to cower anymore. I don't want to end up like Angel and Xander. " Oz grabbed Riley tight around the middle. "I can't do this anymore."

"Fine, you can't do this; you won't do anything." Willow directed a beam right at Oz's eyes, but Angel's arm caught the impact instead. He fell backwards and began to slide up an incline to an old catwalk; there was too much of a powerful force behind it. Riley and Spike's muscles groaned from their separate chains and weights.


	12. Chapter 12

Spike continued to struggle as his wrists began to raw from the force of the metallic he was inflicting on himself. Buffy was absorbed deeply in the destruction she had caused, and didn't notice Liam looking at Spike, examining him. He grinned with superiority as he leaned over the arm of the throne, and William used a technique he hadn't used in many years. William's eyes locked and overrode most of Liam's senses.

Buffy didn't hear her goon move as he got up and began to pace around Spike. To the foolish observer, it looked as though Liam was deciding how best to torture him next, but Liam had another plan. Liam could hear Spike's soothing voice in his head.

_She can't possibly love you. She's loved too many others. Trust me; hear my voice. You could be happy getting away. All you have to do is assist me just this once, and then I can guarantee she'll be gone._ Liam tried to shake the voice away. He didn't want his snookers gone. But there was something about the way she watched the events unfold. Something he didn't see in her eyes as they made love. Usually, she had conquest in her moments of ecstasy, but this was so different. Liam knew as he turned to face Spike that this was the only way. Liam searched behind Spike and gently moved behind his back. There was a natural bridge created by the wall and the enchantment that his finger wouldn't fit through. He jiggled while Spike kept lookout, but there was so little need. Buffy was so engrossed in the proceedings that she hadn't even noticed Liam move across the room.

Liam drew the sword to his side and raised his eyebrow. Spike nodded and gritted his teeth. Liam hacked deftly through Will's index finger and only got a slight gurgle through his gritted teeth and the finger fell to the floor. Liam used the finger to wiggle the enchantment off the wall. Spike stretched and snapped his neck muscles. He was shackled, but could at least move around now. Liam stood looking at him stupidly. Spike's first order of business was to clothesline Liam. That was the first thing Buffy saw as she took her eyes off the screen.

Angel wasn't quite sure what was going on anymore, but apparently there were lots of secrets everywhere and one can opener had freed all the worms they'd been hiding. From his vantage point, he saw many enraged people and in the midst of it; a spurned love reigning down judgment on him.

Oz's voice was calm, though Willow felt as though his voice was booming off the echoes of the canyon. "Willow, haven't you hurt us enough? Hurt yourself enough? We know you're doing some sort of drug when you think we aren't watching."

Willow shook her head. "Don't judge me. You have no right."

Riley answered for Oz. "We may not have that right, but this thing involving Angel and Xander doesn't involve anyone else. For years, we've been helping and harboring his pain. Well I for one am done! Stand down, Willow. Let them handle this."

Chris came up, walking confidently in front of Willow with a puffed chest. "You can't talk to her like this. I won't let you."

Willow chuckled. They would pay for every little infraction they had incurred over time. "Sic them, Keller."

Xander watched as Keller sprinted across the room and his gaze returned to Angel. He moved forward slowly. Even with no weaponry; he was convinced he had enough strength to beat the vampire. Angel saw the shadow of the possessed Xander coming slowly toward him and he tensed up.

Angel's absent breath was shallow. He began to scoot back with palms forward, signaling for peace. "Please, don't make me fight you."

"You brought this on yourself," Xander hissed, stepping up onto the catwalk that Angel was secured on. Angel brought himself reluctantly up into a fighting stance as he and Xander hung over a giant, rusted turning gear for the ancient dam.

Riley reacted quickly as he saw Keller charge. "Like I said, this ends now."

Using Oz's lap as a fulcrum; Riley flung himself forward and met the charging rhino head-on. There was a sickening crunch as the two met. Chris Keller's momentum was infamous, however, and they continued backwards. Riley's back crashed through a wooden wall and he found himself locked in a wrestling hug with a crazed immortal hanging over the edge of a dam.

"I applaud you for getting rid of my goon. I had forgotten how resilient you can be, Spikey."

"You know, what, I'm sick of your yappin' pity party. How many people have to pay the price for your so-called revenge? Why don't you just grow up, Buff?"

Buffy raised a battle ax out of the side of her throne and leapt out into a slight kneel. Even without a weapon William was determined to destroy the Slayer who had gone round the twist. He locked and braced his manacles in a steel web and pounced forward with a glare. Buffy swung the axe, aiming at his side and Spike heard the air next to his ear move.

He brought the chain downwards near where she had tried to cut into his hip and lashed the back of her knee. She went down, but brought the ax forward. It sliced through his chains and came inches from clipping his nose when he stepped backwards off of her arm. He tucked and rolled back to the wall to gain better leverage and could see she was pissed.

Lightning came rolling through the dust bowl of a night. Keller's eyes crinkled as he exhaustingly grappled with Riley. Riley crawled his way out of the maniac's bear hug and stood panting and ready to charge like a bronco.

"This is none of your business," Riley barked out of anyone else's earshot.

Keller shook his head, brushing dirt off of his shirt. "Oh no, this is all my business. You see, you idiots can't appreciate someone like her. So I figure I'm going to destroy you and your hound dog of a lover and then I'll whisk her away somewhere nice; somewhere where she won't have to hide herself and what makes her special."

"She's poison; didn't you learn your lesson once with your boyfriend?" Keller stumbled a bit when Riley mentioned Toby. No one, save for Willow, was supposed to know about that period of his life. "That's right. You don't think you're the only one who can do research? I can't let you go back in there; at least, not while I still have breath. I was here before you, and I'll be damned if I'm not here after."

"We'll see, soldier boy."

Lightning danced around them; unsure of which to aid. Riley's punches met Keller's forearm and then his nose. Riley knew he couldn't kill the renegade highlander. He'd just have to disarm him long enough to get away. Riley crouched as Chris tried to leap over and kick his head. Chris came back down on his left foot and crushed Riley's ankle. Riley's upper body strength went into overdrive as he grabbed for Keller's face. Riley did a somersault and took Chris with him. Half of Keller's face was ripped down and a harsh jaw was revealed with a bit of overgrown fang.

"My face! Now you've pissed me off, kid." Chris used the lightning to hit around Riley. His brown hair stood on its sides and he pulled back to the wall to try and ground the bolts. Riley ducked under a steel vent and came back around a ladder.

Chris Keller whistled. "Awww, we were just having fun! Come out and play. See if you can save your girlfriend," Chris jeered.

Riley hung out over an old aqueduct and climbed back up a grate. His fingers ached and he hoped that this would take Keller by surprise.


	13. Chapter 13

Xander stormed after Angel in fury. His eyes flashed a terrible ivory color as he tried to swipe and punch Angel into submission. The vampire's reflexes had improved since he had woken up, and even in his weakened state Angel was still superior to the incensed human. Xander grabbed a rusty lead pipe, rust tinging over his hand, and forced Angel into a corner. Xander clubbed him over the back twice before Angel head butted him.

"Stop this now, Xander. You're angry and I don't want you to regret what you're doing."

Xander scoffed at Angel. "Regret? I'll tell you about regret. I regret ever loving a selfish, conniving demon like you. I was right when I first met you. You're just a vampire. There are no angels."

Xander swung out with the help of a thin cable and came down right behind Angel. Angel twisted and elbowed Xander while kicking out one leg and throwing his back.

Angel shook his head. "I'll defend myself, even if I don't like it Xander. You can stop this at any time."

"What do you care if I survive?"

"When do you think I ever stopped caring for you?"

"Just drop it. You're not fooling anyone, Angel."

Xander wobbled back up to his feet and came at Angel, clawing him. The passionate glow was fading, but he was fighting himself more than Angel at this point. He was fighting years of belief and years of torment. He was fighting for fate or something else he couldn't put his finger on. Angel gazed on the desperate fingernails scratching his shirt. He couldn't have loved or pitied Xander more than at this moment.

Xander's knees gave out in frustration and pain. His black hair fell around his face and Xander's head rested against Angel's knee. He couldn't cry, but desperately wanted to. Xander tried striking Angel over and over on his thigh and tried to inflict the pain he felt on the inside. He pounded against his Angel after so long away. He hated longing for him, but was helpless against them. When he stopped pounding, Angel reached down and tried to smooth down his hair. Xander broke away in disgust and then tried to limp to the side of the railing. Xander looked down into the void of metal and floor.

Xander witnessed Oz up and circling the floor around Willow. They parried for position. Willow began firing red bolts at Oz.

Oz was somewhere between offensive and defensive position, as though he hadn't quite decided what would be best to deal with her. "Willow, you have to calm down."

But Willow was having none of it. "I refuse to calm down. Do you know how long and hard I worked building the team and getting all the research together and you and Riley went and ruined it all?"

"It's not as big a deal as you think. You get exactly what you want and I get my own happy ending. Lets just move on without having to do this, okay Will?"

Her answer was more magick aimed directly at everyone in the building. Oz leapt at Willow to try and keep the bolts away from Xander and Riley. Willow picked him up with her mind and threw him against a large crate like a rag doll. The crate splintered and Oz gathered a few splinters in his pouch discreetly. He bounded the corner while avoiding more bolts and tried to jump on her back. He missed but knocked her down enough that a bolt leapt up into her hand and her nose began to bleed as the backfire of the bolt began to take effect. She hissed as Oz moved back steadily to try and plan his next move to disable her.

Spike and Buffy pushed and pulled each other against the walls in a flurry of kicks and punches. He began to stagger under the weight of his chains and Buffy went in for a forehead kick. The vampire slid down the wall at the last second and wrapped his chain around her left leg and swung her into the wall. Spike grabbed her head and began to stick his fang incisors into her bloodstream. He cradled as he drank and she kicked against him hard. She was bleeding profusely and then began to fall against her throne. Spike's eyes flashed as an explosion danced across the screen.

"Shit."

Keller was still raining thunder and lightning all around himself, for protection and flair. His comeuppance came from above, where Riley was hiding. With a worthy battle cry, Riley crashed down upon Keller and watched as the immortal was swept over the railing. His hands gripped the slippery rails and then his own thunder began to pierce two of his fingers.

There was a moment when Riley contemplated trying to save him. But that want was disrupted by the sound of a loud explosion that sent him forward onto the railing. Before falling, Chris grabbed Riley's collar and tried pummeling his head in. Keller's grip was lost before too long and Riley watched as Keller fell into a dark abyss and then onto some jagged rocks.

Riley was able to rise very slowly and then watched as a beam escaped from the void at the bottom of the dam. The beam was the same color as the clear orb that had disintegrated Spike and Cordy. Riley scrambled backwards and fell to the ground.

Willow's final bolt before she went unconscious for the second time on the same day had hit the gears directly under the catwalk. Xander began to waver over the edge as a result and Angel yelled his name. Spike watched helplessly as Xander began to fall and Angel grabbed loosely on the back of his shirt.

"No, Xander, I can't let you go."

Xander's tears had finally begun to flow and all he could do was shake his head. "I can't let you rescue me again, Angel."

Xander wriggled deftly and Angel watched with a helpless deflation in his soul. Xander fell in slow motion. He could feel every tear and every heartbeat. Oz turned and ran, hoping to get there in time, but knew he wouldn't. He turned and saw the maddened Willow beginning to rise, all restraints loosed. Sick of everything having to do with Willow and her perceived drama, Oz took his handful of splinters and threw them with deadly accuracy into her neck. Her vocal chords popped out of her throat and she began to gag and choke.

Oz shook his head, standing between the two scenes of carnage at the abandoned dam. "I want you to leave this world knowing you almost hurt the last person to love you. I'll always hope you have a chance to repent though. Maybe then you'll have some of the beauty I saw in that girl that wore the Eskimo suit."

Oz turned from Willow as Riley crawled back through the hole that Chris had pushed him through while Xander landed on the dull side of a sharp pointy blade and slid down to ground level. He looked up at Angel and shook his head.

It had to be over; there will never be another time or place for them. Why couldn't Angel just give up? Then a little voice inside of Xander told him that he couldn't give up, not again.. He didn't want to let the vampire go again. This time, it was going to end different.

Oz crouched down and helped Riley stagger back into the room. Riley shivered as he breathed, in pain from a couple of broken ribs. "We've got trouble. The gem must still be active. There's a beam of it coming from the ground outside. Gather up Angel and Xander. We have to try and get out of here."

"Its not worth it. Let's stop running, Ri." Oz put his head on Riley's chest as the worn out Riley collapsed at the window.

Xander and Angel met at the base of the catwalk. Angel was a head taller than Xander; just like it had been when they first met.

"Angel, I…."

"Xander, don't apologize. You have every right to be angry with me. I'm almost glad for everything thats happened if it means you've come back to me."

Angel fell to his knees and Xander lurched to catch him. "Angel, I thought you were okay."

Angel groaned. "I feel like I haven't been able to eat in weeks. I just, ah..." Angel doubled over in pain and Xander grabbed a knife from his belt. He cut his shirt and exposed his collarbone.

"Angel, you need blood. Please, you need your strength; I need you to have strength."

Angel shook his head slowly. Xander was too close, that smell was too close. "I missed you in LA. It's such a barren place without you; everything is barren without you. No, Xander, I can't take your blood. That's asking too much."

"You think I'm gonna let a little thing like you being polite keep me from helping you? I love you, you idiot. My life is empty without you."

Angel's hand brushed Xander's cheek and Xander turned away in modesty. "You've gone from a boy to a man while my back was turned."

"Your hands are still cold."

"Your cheek is still warm," Angel chuckled.

The light from the gem flashed through the place. It was hot, but didn't burn a soul. Cordy had crossed over and used her powers to make sure of it.


End file.
